


The Damsel Curse

by ladyroxanne21



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderfluid, Het and Slash, M/M, Mpreg, Trans Character, and a smidgen of angst, gender fluid, i think, not really sure to be honest, sort of, sort of lol - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8568577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyroxanne21/pseuds/ladyroxanne21
Summary: When Harry studies a book of curses, he finds a curse he thinks might just solve all his problems - except that it creates at least as many as it solves! The Damsel Curse is designed to turn a strong warrior into a weak damsel - or in Harry's case, a man with a scar and a infamous past into a woman with a clean slate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I debated quite a bit on tagging this as Trans because to me, a trans person is a person who truly believes that they are the opposite gender of that they were born. A trans person *is* the gender they believe they are.  
> In this story, Harry spends the majority of his time as a woman because he wants to, but he doesn't believe that he is meant to be a woman. He grows comfortable with being both genders, and so I am not sure that qualifies him as truly trans. I ultimately decided that with as much as he enjoys being a woman, he's at least half trans, and I sincerely hope that this definition doesn't offend any readers who are true trans or have trans loved ones :-)

Harry gaped at the book he was reading. It was a book on curses because Harry was thinking about specializing as a curse breaker, but that wasn't important. What _was_ important was that Harry had just read a curse that he couldn't believe existed.

“'Mione... I think I just solved all my problems...” Harry murmured, distracted by his continued reading.

“What problems?” Ron asked with interest, looking up from the book he was reading on charms to try using in the future Weasley Wizarding Wheezes products. Now that he wasn't tested on anything and the point of the product was fun, Ron found that he liked studying and learning new things.

Meanwhile, Hermione was frowning because she didn't like any idea that was born of a book on curses. It was no surprise that she was surrounded by a half dozen books on various subjects for her research. In other words, this was a typical night for the trio now that they were adults and trying their best to be good at their jobs.

Harry cleared his throat and looked away evasively. “All the problems I have from simply being Harry Potter.”

Hermione inhaled sharply. “Please tell me that you're not considering a curse that would stop you from being who you are!”

“Well...” Harry replied, tilting his head and half shrugging with a sheepish expression. 

“That doesn't sound good at all, mate,” Ron stated, clearly concerned.

Harry sighed and used a finger to underline the words as he read – simply to have something to do with his hands. “The Damsel Curse.” He paused to see if Hermione had already heard of it, but she looked slightly curious rather than knowing.

He continued. “This curse weakens your opponent by turning them into a helpless woman. The wielder has a bit of influence over the shape and look of the woman, thus making it particularly effective when fighting someone tall and powerful by changing them into someone small and weak. It's an old curse that was used a lot in times when women – even witches – were dismissed as unimportant and worthless, making it effective on many levels. There's a counter curse which negates all effects and turns the man back to normal, however, until the counter curse is applied, the man is – for all intents and purposes – a woman. If the counter curse is never applied, then the man lives the rest of his life as a woman. In days of old, this would have been a fate almost worse than death.”

Harry stopped reading to look up at his friends, who were both looking at him as if he had just turned into a fascinating specimen to be studied. “What?”

“You want to be a woman?” Ron asked, unexpectedly intrigued by the prospect.

“Well, it's not so much that I want to be a _woman_ , but that I want to have the ability to _not_ be Harry Potter,” Harry answered with a shrug. “I think I would be just as interested if the curse turned me into a dwarf or something; something unrecognizable as me.”

“So... you want Harry Potter to die?” Ron wondered with a light glare.

“No,” Harry hastily assured him. “I can still attend ministry functions and charity events – and things like that – but my every day life would be mine again. I'd be able to go shopping in Diagon Alley without everyone trying to shake my hand or beg for my autograph.”

Hermione had snatched the book to read up on the curse and make sure that it really was fully reversible without any lingering side effects. Now that she was as certain as she could be without tangible evidence, she looked up at Harry. “Are you sure?”

“Just make sure that the scar is gone,” Harry said with an intense look.

Hermione sighed in defeat. “I suppose that it's worth a try, especially since it doesn't have to be permanent.” She took a moment to read the actual curse words and the counter curse – memorizing both in seconds. Since the curse was intended to be used quickly in the heat of battle, it didn't have a complicated wand movement nor a long incantation. The majority of the work was done by intention.

So, Hermione set aside her misgivings and focused on Harry turning into a woman without a famous scar. After she cast the curse, Harry held up his hands and marveled at how slender and delicate they looked.

“Whoa...” Ron exhaled with wide eyes. “That's _weird_...”

“What?” Harry asked, his voice coming out very soft and feminine.

“You look...” Ron couldn't finish his thought because he suddenly realized that it might be taken the completely wrong way.

“Like an archetypal damsel,” Hermione finished for him, clearly fascinated. “Dainty and delicate and... beautiful...”

Ron nodded in agreement, then flushed and cleared his throat. “I can see why this curse would have been effective. Even if you retained all of your power, you'd still be distracted by the new body and... Well... The other enemies would probably have been distracted by you.”

Harry decided that he needed to look at himself in a mirror, so – to fulfill that need  _and_ test out his magic – he conjured a full length mirror a few feet in front of him. His initial impression was good. He still had black hair, but rather than look scruffy, it was sleek and glossy, hanging down to his waist in loose spiraling curls. His eyes were still the same shade of vibrant green. Best of all, his scar was gone – or at the very least, so faint that one would have to be looking from about two inches away to see a hint of it.

Other than that, Ron and Hermione were right. He looked  _very_ feminine. Needing to see for himself just exactly  _how_ feminine, Harry abruptly stripped his jumper off to reveal a rather nice set of breasts.

“Mate!” Ron protested, slapping a hand over his eyes.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Ron, you've seen me naked before.”

“Yeah, but not as a woman!” Ron exclaimed.

Harry merely shrugged. “We've  _all_ seen each other naked, thus I can't possibly have anything you haven't seen before.” As he said this, he stripped off his trousers and pants. He left his socks on simply because his feet were cold – although the socks were huge on him now.

“This damsel curse might also have some sort of attraction factor to it,” Hermione murmured, biting her lip in thought. “Because I'm feeling a bit...”

“Yeah...” Ron added in a low voice. Harry noticed from Ron's reflection in the mirror that he was peeking through his fingers while obviously trying not to.

“That might not be such a good thing,” Harry grumbled turning side to side as he inspected every bit of his body, which was interestingly scar free, aside from the very faint lightning bolt that was resistant to even this, but not noticeable unless one was looking for it. “The point of this is for people to _not_ pay attention to me.”

“Well, we'd have to test it before we know for sure,” Hermione stated, still seeming rather fascinated. “It's possible that what Ron and I are feeling is just some sort of protective instinct triggered by seeing our best friend so 'helpless,' as the curse would have us believe.”

“Meaning that others would simply treat me as a pretty girl, and not as someone who is magically attractive?” Harry wondered.

“Pretty?” Ron scoffed. “More like bloody gorgeous!” Then he flinched. “Which is not to say that I think he looks better than you do, love,” he assured his girlfriend.

She snorted in amusement. “At the moment, he most certainly does! But don't worry, I'm not jealous or anything.”

“Do you think I could borrow something to wear while we go out and test this curse?” Harry asked, turning to face Hermione. He was slightly interested to notice that she had a flare of something that looked a lot like lust in her eyes for one second before she shook it away.

“Of course,” she answered, summoning a dress she thought would look good on Harry from the room she shared with Ron, now that they were all living in Grimmauld Place. It was a knee-length summer dress with cap sleeves in a green that almost matched Harry's eyes. A moment later, she summoned undergarments to go with it.

Harry blushed just a tiny bit as he pulled on the black panties that fit fairly well. Slightly more embarrassing was the fact that the bra was too small and had to be magically adjusted to fit him. He was apparently a cup size bigger than his friend, which was information that he hadn't really ever wanted to know before now. The dress itself had to be adjusted a bit here and there, but looked good on him.

“What do you think? Should I let my hair stay like it is, or should I do something with it?” He asked.

“Unless it's bothering you, just leave it,” Hermione advised. “It looks really good the way it is.”

“Wow...” Ron said because he didn't know what else to say. Watching Harry dress had provoked an unexpected response that he sincerely prayed was part of the curse. He cleared his throat and squirmed uncomfortably as he asked: “Er, mate? Did the curse make you feel anything, er... _different_?”

“Like how?” Harry wondered.

“Like... oh... when you look at me and 'Mione, do you feel things you didn't before?”

Harry blushed becomingly, looking away from them. “To be honest, I've always felt things for both of you that bordered on problematic.” Then Harry slapped a hand over his mouth in horror. “I can't believe I just admitted that!”

Ron glared at Harry for a moment. “You once told me that you felt nothing for Hermione but that you'd feel for a sister.”

“And that's true – about ninety-five percent of the time,” Harry insisted defensively.

Hermione laughed at how jealous Ron was being. “And did it escape your attention that Harry included you in that sentence?”

Ron flushed. “No, but...” He shrugged as if to say that he trusted Harry to never do anything uncomfortable. However, curiosity took over a moment later. “Problematic how?”

Harry sighed, very much wishing that he wasn't having this conversation. “Oh... once or twice when I was drunk, I thought you looked better than I remembered and – is there some sort of Veritaserum in this curse?!”

Hermione giggled and shook her head. “Not that it said. I still think this is an attraction component that wasn't listed either. Let's go out and see what happens. Where would you like to go?”

“Shopping in Diagon Alley, since that's something I dream of being able to do without being mobbed by the crowd,” Harry replied. “And since I am liking this curse enough that I'd probably do it again even if there is a bit of an attraction and a Veritaserum effect, I should probably buy a few things to wear.”

“Alright,” Hermione acquiesced softly.

“Wait...” Ron held up a hand with a soft frown. “Shouldn't we pick something else to call you? It would hardly help matters if we called you Harry. There really isn't anyone else we hang out with by that name.”

Harry shrugged. “That's a good point, but I'm hoping that people won't automatically assume that I'm me. Thus – if this curse works the way I want it to, you actually  _could_ call me Harry and no one would think that I'm me.”

Hermione gave him a skeptical look. “Ron has a point though.”

Harry nodded. “I know, I wasn't saying that he didn't. Just that I don't want some complicated or weird name. I rather like Harry. And  _no!_ Harriet is  _not_ a good substitute.”

Ron laughed because that's exactly what he was going to suggest.

“Maybe Yrrah,” Hermione suggested with a giggle.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Because yeah, ee-rah isn't weird at all.”

“Lily?” Ron asked, thinking this was reasonable.

“No... I don't want to walk around pretending to be my mother either,” Harry denied with a light shudder. “And so any form of James is out as well.”

“Then what?” Ron wondered, instinctively knowing that he wouldn't be able to suggest anything Harry liked.

“Hmm...” Harry bit his lip in thought. “You know, I think that it might be the simplest – the easiest to remember – if you still called me by name, just got rid of the H. Because Mary or Carrie or Teri all give me shudders too. So... Ari.”

“Alright,” Ron responded smoothly. “I can remember that.”

“Hmm... I think I'll need to summon a pair of shoes too,” Hermione added to herself more than them. “Better start off with a short heel and a slew of cushioning charms.”

Harry continued to look at himself in the mirror as Hermione adjusted the shoes to fit his smaller feet. Normally, he was almost exactly halfway between Ron and Hermione in height, but now he was a bit shorter than Hermione, even in her heels – which made him shorter than average for a woman. This made sense in context of the curse.

He caught Ron watching him with an expression like he was thinking that Harry had officially lost the plot. Chuckling, he turned to Ron and grinned. “You know, even when I suggested this curse, I didn't think I'd particularly  _like_ being a girl, but... it's really not so bad. So far.”

Ron still had that look. “Yeah... you seem to be having fun with it.”

“You know, I really think I am,” Harry stated with a tone like _huh_...

Five minutes later, Harry was walking down Diagon Alley with a mad grin on his face. “It worked! No one seems to care two Knuts about me!”

“Well, _Ari_ , you wanted to shop, so let's shop!” Hermione cried out gleefully, as if she was overjoyed to finally have a girl to shop with. 

Ron groaned. “You know, I think I'll just get a few drinks at the Leaky.”

Hermione giggled while Harry snickered. “Yeah, go on.”

Ron rushed to do exactly that, suddenly not feeling like he could handle this situation without at least one ale in him. The moment he was out of sight, Hermione grinned a bit deviously.

“I have a brilliant idea,” she murmured. 

“Yeah?” Harry asked curiously.

“A good test of how recognizable you are...”

Harry nodded because aside from being a woman, he still looked like himself – like he was Harry Potter's sister or remarkably similar looking cousin.

Without another word, Hermione led him into the shop Ron ran with his brother George. George was currently behind the counter helping a customer, but when that customer left, he looked over to grin at Hermione – and he assumed Ron at the very least. When he saw Harry, he literally stumbled and his jaw dropped.

“ _Hello_! And who do we have here?” George asked with obvious appreciation in his voice. 

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “Out of curiosity, George, do you think you are reacting to the sight of a beautiful woman, or are you possibly under the influence of an attraction spell?”

George stood up straight and closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head. “Nope, no strange magical influences that I can feel. I simply think your friend is quite possibly the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. Do you have a boyfriend?”

Harry chuckled. “Aren't you supposed to ask me my name first?”

George gave them the most brilliant grin they had ever seen on his face since Fred died. “Nah, that's easy! Your name is Mrs. George Weasley.”

“Wow...” Harry murmured, stunned. “Do men really talk like that? And are you _sure_ you're not under some sort of compulsion?”

George frowned and scratched his head. “Why would you both think that? Did you do something I don't know about?” He directed the second question to Hermione.

“Nothing to you, no,” Hermione stated. “I just can't believe that you're this interested in anyone without being under the influence of anything. And yes, men do usually talk like this to women they're attracted to.”

“I didn't realize that,” Harry murmured.

“How can you not have heard such heartfelt compliments before?” George wondered with a puzzled frown. “Have you been living under a rock?”

“So...” Harry drawled, changing the subject. “Mr. George Weasley, what would you do if I fell for your flirting and it turned out that I made a dismal Mrs. George Weasley?”

“Impossible!” George scoffed, daring to put an arm around Harry's shoulders. He used his other hand to tilt Harry's head up until they were looking eye to eye. “I'm pretty sure you just convinced me that love at first sight is real.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah, I really think there  _must_ be an attraction component to this curse.”

Hermione bit her lip in thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No... I'm now thinking that it's just what happens to beautiful women. I've never been the recipient of such blatant flirting, but I've seen others who have been. This actually is normal. Not the result of any sort of compulsion.

“Really?” Harry asked in fascination. “Is it bad that I think that sounds fun?”

George was now half glaring at them for basically ignoring him, even though he was still staring into Harry's eyes, and vice versa. “What kind of curse?”

“A beauty curse,” Harry lied without any hesitation.

“Oh?” George sounded like he couldn't decide whether to be intrigued or disappointed.

“Yeah, I normally look like a troll,” Harry said, patting George on the cheek.

Hermione snorted in amusement and shook her head. “Come on, Ari. We should go shopping now before George manages to talk you into marrying him after all.”

“What's wrong with that?” George asked with a devilish grin. “Ari, eh? That's an interesting name... Wait...” He frowned and looked Harry up and down. “Why do you look so familiar to me?”

Harry laughed and flapped a hand at George, trying to come across as flirty. “I just have one of those faces.”

“Hmm...” George hummed in disappointment.

Harry and Hermione left the shop in high spirits because so far, not even someone who knew Harry as well as George did suspected the truth. And George knew Harry better than anyone other than Ron and Hermione, so if anyone was going to suspect, it would be him. Harry couldn't wait to heckle him about it later on.

The rest of the walk to a rather high end shop for women was eventful in that a group of single men noticed Harry and stared so hard that they ran into each other and tripped over easily avoided objects. Harry actually giggled at that.

“I've decided that attention isn't quite so bad when it's natural and not Hero Worship.”

“If you're serious about using this curse a lot, Ari, I think maybe the two of us should _really_ dress up one night and go out to a dance club or something,” Hermione suggested. “With no objective other than to flirt with others and see what happens.”

“Is that why Ron isn't invited?” Harry asked slyly.

“Well, that and I don't think he really wants to watch either of us conduct that particular experiment,” Hermione answered with a smirk.

Since they had just reached the shop, Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm. “Will you treat me to a new outfit? I can't really justify the expense, but if you're buying one for you anyway...”

Harry shrugged and then nodded. “Shopping together is all part of the fun, right? It wouldn't feel right if we didn't both get something.”

“Good,” Hermione stated with a tiny smile that let Harry know that she was mentally beating herself up for asking Harry to spend money on her. She never had before and didn't normally like it when Harry bought her expensive gifts – unless they were extremely practical too.

They entered the shop to find that it offered a wider variety of fashion than they expected. They had thought that it would have mostly things like dress robes and the wizarding equivalent of business suits and formal wear. The shop did have all of that, but it also had less formal clothing – quite a bit of which could pass as high class muggle fashion too. Most surprising of all might just have been what looked like clubbing clothes!

“Oh! This is cute!” Hermione exclaimed as she held up a dark pink dress that was intended to cling to the hips and stop mid thigh.

“I didn't know you liked things like that,” Harry remarked.

Hermione shrugged. “I never have a reason to wear things like this, but that doesn't mean I don't like them.”

“You know, I always thought that you would look good in red, maybe something like this,” Harry said as he held up a tiny garment that looked like it would need to be poured onto the wearer.

“Oh...” Hermione stared at it with wide eyes. “I couldn't...” she demurred with a tone that clearly said she liked it even if it was scanty and frivolous. She took it to look over as Harry turned to look at something else.

“Good grief! Granger, what are you doing here?” Draco Malfoy demanded in his usual posh sneer.

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Hermione ordered without really giving him any attention. “I have every right to be here.”

Harry had heard Malfoy, of course, but decided that it would be best to ignore him too. “They have another one of those in blue. What do you think, would I look good in blue?”

Hermione looked at the dress Harry held up and snorted. “I think you would look good in anything you wore – even a burlap sack!”

Harry laughed. “Perhaps, but I don't want to wear a burlap sack to the dance club.” He felt a prickle up the back of his neck and turned to find Malfoy gaping at him. “Something I can help you with?”

Malfoy actually blushed. “No, er, I'm just wondering how I've never met you before. I know  _everyone_ that can afford to shop here – or know  _of_ them at the very least.”

“Well of course you wouldn't know about me,” Harry stated with a devious smirk. “I'm the dirtiest sort of person imaginable – short of a muggle. I'm a...” he leaned forward just a bit and whispered the rest. “A squib...”

“Which is why you never met her at Hogwarts,” Hermione added, surprising Harry with her ability to collaborate his story so easily. “She can't do magic, so she didn't go, despite being the same age as us. More importantly, what are _you_ doing in this shop, Malfoy?”

Malfoy simply scoffed and waved that question away, his eyes glued to Harry. “I'm shopping with Pansy, of course.”

Harry still ignored Malfoy for the most part. “I dread thinking about actually  _dancing_ – even if we do find the right dress to wear.”

“I wouldn't worry about that,” Hermione stated with a grin. “You haven't noticed it, but you have extraordinary grace. Besides, it'll just be the two of us, so who cares if you don't know how to dance?” She demonstrated both statements by setting the dresses aside and pulling Harry into an impromptu dance.

Harry grinned when he realized that he really did have a bit of grace and wasn't wobbly or about to trip over anything.

“It's all part of being a damsel,” Hermione whispered in his ear.

“I didn't know that you were interested in girls, Granger,” Pansy observed as she emerged from a fitting room and witnessed what looked a bit like two lovers whispering in each other's ears.

Hermione smirked at her. “So what if I am? What business is it of yours?”

“No need to be prickly,” Pansy growled with narrowed eyes. “It's just a surprise, is all. The papers all mentioned how you're likely to marry that Weasley soon. Rita Skeeter goes on and on about how you must be both blind and stupid for choosing him over our precious Savior.”

Hermione reacted by kissing Harry on the cheek and otherwise ignoring Pansy. “I think you'd look good in blue, but I like you in green too. You might not be the best in black though because of your hair.”

“Nonsense! Black looks good with everything!” Pansy insisted, picking up the tiny blue dress that Harry had been holding. “But yes, this would probably make you look like sex on legs.”

Harry grinned. “That would be the point of going to the club, right?”

“Right,” Hermione confirmed. “But we should get a few other outfits for you too. Something comfortable to wear when you're _not_ at a club, for instance.”

Harry nodded in agreement. A sales clerk decided that this meant that the two new customers she'd never seen before must be serious about buying things after all. She looked Harry over with a critical eye, and then looked around the shop.

“Just give me a few minutes and I'll have a selection of things that would be just right for you,” the clerk informed them.

“Alright, so long as I can try this on while you do,” Harry murmured.

The clerk responded by flicking her wand at a dressing room to open the doors in invitation.

“Wow, the room's big enough for us to sit and drink tea while we change!” Harry noted. He held out his hand. “Together or separately, 'Mione?”

“Together is fine, Ari,” Hermione responded with a smile and a shrug.

Working together, it didn't take long for them to change into the shimmering, slinky dresses that covered everything it should from their cleavage down to their thighs, but exposed their backs almost down to the sacrum. They stepped out of the dressing room to take advantage of the bigger mirrors and better lighting in the main area.

“Wow, Granger,” Pansy whistled in appreciation. “With your hair restrained in a bun like that, you actually look good in that dress.”

Hermione smoothed a hand over her hair – which was in a bun because that's how she wore it to work. She was trying her hardest not to respond, but the compliment made her feel awkward and nervous. “Really?”

Pansy didn't deign to answer verbally, but gave a short nod.

“I agree, 'Mione,” Harry murmured. “And I was right, you do look good in red.”

“I do, but I still want to try on that pink dress,” Hermione stated. “It looks more appropriate for a date.”

Harry chuckled and raised a brow. “Are we dating too then?”

Hermione pushed him slightly off balance for a moment. “Not  _you_ ! For Ron!”

“Oh! That makes more sense,” Harry admitted with a feeling like he was stupid for thinking otherwise.

Between Hermione, the clerk, and – strangely – Pansy, Harry soon had an entire wardrobe amassed, shoes and all. He also indicated to the clerk that he wanted to pay for Hermione's two dresses and the matching shoes. Hermione had a moment of concern when she wondered how he would pay for it all since he couldn't exactly use Harry Potter's Gringott's credit key and signature while in disguise.

There was nothing to worry about though since Harry had brought along his pouch – that Hermione had charmed with an undetectable extension charm. It held more than enough money in it to pay for the clothes because Harry liked to carry more than he needed so that he wouldn't have to go to Gringott's – and thus Diagon Alley – more often than strictly necessary. Harry summoned the required amount of Galleons from the bag and handed them to the clerk.

“Thank you for your patronage,” the clerk praised with a grin. “Please come back soon!”

Malfoy – who had been watching them more or less silently – spoke up just then. “More importantly, Granger, since you seem to be surprisingly decent with fashion, drag poor Potter to the shop next door and make sure he has a passable wardrobe too! He was actually wearing torn jeans covered in mud the last time I spotted him in Diagon Alley.”

“I didn't know you watched him that closely, Malfoy,” Hermione murmured with a smirk of challenge.

“Hardly!” Malfoy harrumphed. “I simply couldn't help wondering if he thinks that shabby clothes will make people leave him alone. You should tell him that a good wardrobe and the right attitude are far more effective.”

Hermione shrugged. “Doesn't matter. He's decided that there's no reason for him to go out in public anymore, so you won't be seeing what he's wearing anyway.”

“Such a shame,” Pansy drawled so sarcastically that it was pretty much guaranteed that she meant the exact opposite.

Malfoy shook his head and frowned at her. “There's no need to be a cow, Pans. We may not like him, but he did defeat the Dark Lord and save me from burning to death – not to mention a sentence in Azkaban. I owe him a smidgen of respect at the very least.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “All I meant was that with Potter out of the spotlight, the Daily Prophet will have to write about something else, for a change.”

“Such as your wedding?” Malfoy questioned with an amused smirk.

“Of course! It's not every day that I get engaged to the wealthiest man in Europe,” Pansy stated with a thoroughly smug expression.

“Congratulations,” Harry murmured, finding it interesting what was said about him when he wasn't around. He _almost_ thought it would be nice to befriend the Slytherins, since none of them had ever treated him like a Hero to be worshiped. 

Pansy smirked at Harry, although she didn't know that it was him. “If you see Potter, tell him not to faint when he receives an invitation to my wedding. It's simply because the event is going to be the biggest thing in nearly a decade. My fiancé's nearly royalty in the Muggle world, so everyone who is anyone in either world must be invited. I don't expect Potter to actually show up, but if he does, I will be a gracious hostess.”

“You're marrying a Muggle?!” Harry blurted out incredulously.

Pansy shrugged. “I know that may seem like a contradiction to my beliefs, but it's really not. I personally never thought that Muggles were bad, I just don't like the vast majority of them. Ivan is different though.”

“Oh,” Harry murmured.

“Come on, Ari,” Hermione said as she linked her arm through his. “I'm getting hungry and want to get home so we can eat the leftovers of that fabulous roast that Harry cooked last night.”

“Harry Potter cooks?” The clerk asked in fascination.

“Passionately. What? Did you think that he ordered take away every night?” Hermione wondered with a curious frown.

“No!” The clerk blurted out with a blush. “I thought... house elves...”

“Some things taste better when cooked with love,” Harry murmured, then tugged Hermione out of the shop before anyone could say anything else to delay them.

 

***

 

George arrived after the shop had closed to find that Harry was still experimenting with the curse. “Oh good, I was hoping to see you again.”

“Hi George,” Harry greeted him with a smile. “Strudel?”

“Gorgeous and you cook, when can we have that wedding?” George asked, half flirting, half serious.

Ron groaned. “Ugh, tell him already! Watching him flirt with you is disgusting, mate.”

“Tell me what?” George asked curiously.

Harry smirked knowingly at him, deciding that it was the perfect time for that heckling. “That I'm really Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, cursed to be a woman for the time being. Still want to marry me?”

George felt a moment of nausea before he chuckled. “Now it makes sense why I thought you look so familiar to me! And yes, if you continue to look like that, I'll continue to ask you to marry me until you agree.”

Ron made a sound like he was retching. “Ugh!  _Why?_ ”

“Because I get along with Harry pretty well and if he's going to have all the right parts in such an attractive package, then I think we'd make an excellent married couple,” George explained with a grin.

“I'll give you that he's gorgeous, but he's still _Harry_ ,” Ron stated, as if this made a big difference. Which, to be fair, it should.

Harry chuckled. “I'm just now realizing that the prospect of being married to a man doesn't sound near as bad as it should. But no, George, I'm not attracted to you in that way.  _Bill_ perhaps...”

“Right?!” Hermione asked gleefully, happy to have a girl around to be a girl with. “With that hair and that arse.”

“Hermione!” Ron gasped incredulously and with a fair amount of jealousy.

Harry simply nodded.

George laughed and put an arm around Harry's shoulders. “Lucky for me, he's already married.”

Before Harry could gently decline once again, Ron interrupted. “Wait, see what I'm not quite understanding is this: Harry, if you're still you, then why are you suddenly interested in blokes? You didn't always think Bill might be your type.”

Harry tilted his head slightly up in thought. “Er... Yeah, I did. My first thought when I met him was  _whoa..._ but I was too young to really interpret that as attraction at the time, and when I  _did_ think it might be attraction, I didn't really think you'd appreciate me showing that kind of interest in your older married brother.”

“So... wait. So you're saying that you've had interest in blokes for a while but you didn't tell me about it?” Ron asked, feeling a bit betrayed.

“Yeah, I guess I have, but Ron, I haven't really spent a lot of time thinking about it. It's not like I sat down and decided anything and then kept it a secret from you, and I'd really like the Veritaserum part of this curse to stop now!” Harry ended in a frustrated rush.

Hermione giggled. “I don't think there  _is_ a Veritaserum part. I think it's happening because women are more likely to talk about how they feel.”

“Yeah but I keep blurting out things I didn't even _know_ I felt!” Harry wailed softly.

“And I think _that's_ because you have no experience yet in dealing with all these extra-sensitive emotions you now have,” Hermione replied.

“You make it sound like it's permanent,” Ron muttered. “How long you plan to keep the curse anyway?”

Harry shrugged. “At the moment, I'm still having fun trying to figure out how everything works. I'm shorter. I move differently. I feel lighter. I think I'm going to keep the curse for tonight at least and see how I feel about it when I wake up in the morning.”

Since George still had his arm around Harry's shoulders, he whispered in Harry's ear. “I could stay tonight and help you figure things out.”

Harry chuckled and pushed George away. “Not quite ready for that, thanks!”

Ron sent George a light glare. “Stop hitting on my best mate! It's getting just plain creepy.”

“Yeah alright,” George capitulated. “I promised Angelina that I'd meet up with her at the Leaky and catch up.”

“Tell I said hi,” Harry said. “But don't tell her about my curse, please. I wanted to do this specifically so that I could hide in plain sight – as it were. It does me no good if I tell a lot of people and one of them blurts it out while drunk or something.”

“Right!” George agreed, and then grinned. “Lucky for you I've developed a temporary forgetting potion – useful for getting away with certain pranks, I'm sure you can imagine. In any case, once I take the potion and think to myself that I need to forget gorgeous Ari, it'll go clean out of my mind until I wake up tomorrow morning. That way, I can't get too drunk and spill the beans to anyone.”

“Alright,” Harry agreed in relief. “I'm going to go take a shower. Don't let him leave without taking that potion, 'Mione.”

“Sure thing,” Hermione agreed. Harry paused out of sight after he left the kitchen and heard George say: “Bottom's up!” Followed by: “Er... what am I doing here?”

“You came over to invite me and 'Mione out to drinks with you and Angelina, but unfortunately, we're too tired to go anywhere tonight,” Ron explained.

“Too _tired_ eh?” George heckled. “ _Sure_... Oh well, your loss! I should probably get going though so that I'm not late.”

“Have fun!” Ron and Hermione wished in unison just before George Apparated out of the house.

“So... should I be worried that my best friend suddenly wants to be a girl?” Ron asked, his voice clearly concerned.

“No,” Hermione denied softly. “He'll either grow tired of being a woman in a couple of days, or he'll grow to love it. Either way, it's up to him and the best thing you can do is support him no matter what he decides.”

“But... It wouldn't be the same,” Ron protested. 

“What do you mean?” Hermione wondered with a curious frown.

“Things like drinking beer and listening to Quidditch on the WWN, or hell! _Going_ to a Quidditch game! It's different when it's just us blokes than it is when there's a woman with,” Ron tried to explain.

“It is?” Hermione asked, sounding suspicious all of a sudden.

“Well yeah! We can't talk about women, for one,” Ron stated.

Hermione laughed at that. “Oh Ron! It's still Harry! Even if you went to a Quidditch game with him while he was a woman, you could still talk about women and drink beer.”

“Nah... I don't think I could – at least not the talking about women thing. It would be weird. I suspect a _lot_ of things would be weird,” Ron stated with a helpless shrug.

As Harry finally walked away to go take his shower, he vowed that if he decided to use this curse a lot, he'd make an effort for it not to be so weird for Ron.

 

***

 

For the rest of the week, Harry had fun walking around Wizarding areas that he normally couldn't go. Well, he  _could_ go except that whenever he did, people stopped and asked him all sorts of questions. They'd want to shake his hand and pat his back and give him hugs and kisses. Considering that he had grown up without praise of any kind, it was surprising how much Harry didn't like receiving it, but that was probably because he felt like he didn't truly deserve any of it.

Thus, when he walked around as Ari, he was able to enjoy being normal. A non-celebrity. Not to mention it was amusing how many people stared at him for being beautiful, which while being a sort of praise, was natural and actually deserved. Plus, those people usually didn't come up to him and try to touch him. Those that did were flirting so outrageously that it was fun.

One of the best parts was when he went to visit Hermione in her office at the Ministry. He was wearing something that the clerk had called a fit and flare dress in a shade of green that matched his eyes. This meant that the top portion of the dress fit rather snugly – with a plunging neckline – and then the skirt flared out to fall in large wavy lines at a tea length, which was just past the knees. The neck line was accented with ruffles that really called attention to his cleavage, and there was an inch wide sash around his waist in black that formed a delicate bow.

Harry couldn't help but  _feel_ beautiful wearing a dress like this! After a moment of wondering why he was having so much fun as a woman, and why he really liked to dress up when he never cared about fashion as a man, he brushed his thoughts aside and smiled at the people he passed as he walked through the Ministry.

In the Atrium, no one really noticed him at first, but then a man who had been carrying at least a hundred files balanced haphazardly in his arms noticed Harry and gaped in awe. This meant he wasn't watching where he was going, tripped, and dropped all his files. This caused a commotion that got everyone's attention.

“Would you like me to help you pick those up?” Harry offered with a sweet smile.

“Er... pick what up?” The man murmured in confusion. His eyes roamed up and down Harry a couple of times until he remembered his manners and flushed in embarrassment.

Harry gestured to the floor. “The files you dropped.”

“Er... files?” The man reiterated dumbly.

“Dimsby! What's taking you so long?!” A man huffed as he entered the Atrium, and then spotted the files. “And why are my files on the floor?” Then he spotted Harry and his entire attitude changed. “Well hello there. Do you need any help finding where you're going?”

“No, thank you,” Harry demurred with a smile. “I know the way just fine.”

“Ah, too bad. Dimsby, pick up those files and get back to work!”

“Yes sir!” Dimsby hastily cried out.

Harry waved goodbye as Dimsby was casting a handy spell to summon all the files back into his arms exactly as they were. Everyone else had more or less stopped to watch the scene and now followed Harry with their eyes as he walked toward the security desk. He knew better than to have his wand on him – which would give him away as Harry Potter. Also, he was pretending to be a squib.

Thus, the security guard simply cast a spell to make sure that he had nothing dangerous on him before checking to see that he was wearing a visitor's badge, and then waved him away. The lift Harry chose filled up past capacity as men and a few women felt the urge to press in close to Harry. This part was actually uncomfortable and felt a bit like what happened when people knew who he was.

Harry bit his full and luscious lower lip and looked to the ceiling as he thought about the curse. It actually made a bit of sense that the damsel would be very beautiful because it would cause problems like this, making the curse all the more unbearable for men who positively  _loathed_ being a woman.

When the voice announced the floor he needed, Harry removed the hands that had grown bold enough to grope him, and then pushed his way out of the crowd. Thankfully, most of them remembered that they had to go to other floors and stayed where they were. Only one man followed Harry as if floating on a cloud tied directly to him.

The sense of fun returned even though people leaned out of their office doors to watch him walk by as he approached Hermione's office. Ron and his Auror partner – Seamus Finnegan – were just inside the door chatting with her. Harry stopped outside the door to listen to them for a moment.

“And there was definitely elf abuse going on. I think this is a strong case that you can use to help your efforts to reform the house elf laws,” Ron said.

“I hate that there was abuse,” Hermione responded with a heavy sigh as she perused the file. “But I promise to do my best to change things. Thanks for bringing this to my attention.” She looked up to give her boyfriend a loving smile and noticed Harry standing there. “Ari!”

Ron turned to Harry with a grin. In the course of the four days that Harry had been a woman, Ron had gotten fairly used to it. He no longer half mooned over Harry's looks. Nor did he lament the change in his best friend. If he was honest, when Ron wasn't looking at Harry, Harry was mostly the same as he always was.

Harry stepped into the crowded office and gave Ron a quick hug before moving over to kiss Hermione's cheek.

“What brings you here, Ari?” Ron asked.

“ _Hello_!” Seamus burst out appreciatively. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Hiding behind your wettest dreams,” Harry heckled lightly. Ron snorted and then snickered into his hand as he looked away. Now that he was mostly used to Harry as a woman, it was hilarious to watch as men – and some women – made fools of themselves around him.

“Too right you have!” Seamus agreed with a leering grin.

Harry over-exaggerated the way he purposely looked away from Seamus so that he could focus on Hermione. “I came to discuss that private matter with you. And no, Seamus, I won't marry you.”

“How did you know I was going to ask that?” Seamus blurted out, and then added: “And how do you know my name?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Easy, you're Ron's partner. And  _everyone_ asks me to marry them!”

“Oh,” Seamus murmured in disappointment, then visibly gathered his courage. “Well I'm not just anyone! I think I have a lot to offer.”

“I'm sure you do, I'm just not ready for marriage yet,” Harry stated with a patient smile.

“Besides, George would kill you,” Ron added with a smirk. “He asked first. Anyway, we should get back to our office before Dawlish wonders why we're not working.”

“Right,” Seamus agreed sadly before following Ron out of the office. He cast Harry a last longing look as he left.

Hermione shook her head with an amused grin. “I'm beginning to think there should be a pool on who you finally say yes to!”

Harry snorted and changed the subject. “So, are we still on for the club tomorrow night?”

“Saturday already?” Hermione asked in surprise. “Where did the week go?” Then she shook her head in dryly. “Yeah, I can't believe how badly I _need_ a club night!”

“And we're still not bringing Ron?” Harry asked.

“I told him what we planned to do and he agreed that he didn't want to be there to see it, but in exchange, you have to do something with him next Saturday _as Harry_ ,” Hermione stated firmly.

“I can do that,” Harry agreed with a grin. “Even better, in two weeks, the canons are playing and I know Ron would be thrilled if I used my name to get us seats in the VIP box.”

“He would,” Hermione murmured with a soft smile. “Just don't tell him you did that. He knows how much you hate using your name, and he would feel bad. Tell him that they sent you tickets or something.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, they did, so that's the truth. I usually just chuck the tickets in the bin.”

“Ron would be horrified if he knew that.”

“I know,” Harry said with a chuckle. “Now, I'm going to have fun walking back out of here and see if I can make anyone else drop an armload of files.”

Hermione giggled. “You've somehow mastered that balance between sexiness and feminine grace. I'm almost jealous!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I'm almost certain that you could look like this too, if you really wanted to. Just like at the Yule Ball in our Fourth Year.”

Hermione bit her lip and look up in thought. “Well... I  _did_ say that we should dress up, right? So I suppose that means doing my hair...”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed in agreement.

 

***

 

Ron and George were in the kitchen discussing their newest product development when Harry and Hermione finished getting ready to go to the club. The two went to the kitchen to say goodbye before leaving. George's jaw literally dropped, prompting Ron to turn around and see what was wrong.

“Bloody hell!” Ron burst out. “There's _no way_ I'm letting you out of the house looking like that!”

Hermione raised a brow that would have warned a smarter man to shut his mouth. “And...  _why_ do you think you have the right to control where I go?”

“I don't!” Ron protested hastily. “I just know that you plan to go flirt with other blokes, and looking like that, there's a very high chance that you won't be coming home to the right bed tonight!”

Hermione sighed and shook her head fondly. “Oh Ron... You  _know_ I'm not interested in anyone but you. I'm only doing this to have a bit of fun and see if anyone recognizes Harry once he's had a bit to drink and starts talking.”

“Exactly! You're going to be with him – looking like that! You're going to attract all the attention, and men are going to say or do anything they can to talk you into going to bed with them!” Ron exclaimed.

“Perhaps, but I won't let them,” Hermione assured him.

Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder. “Mate, are you  _sure_ you don't want to come with us and keep an eye on your girl?”

Ron sighed and shook his head. “Nah... I think I'd straight up murder anyone who looked at either of you, which would rather put a damper on your fun.”

“I agree with Ron,” George interjected. “I'm sitting on my hands and biting my tongue to keep from casting a spell that would prevent you from leaving the house. You look like your virginity is in dire peril of being lost!”

Harry nearly choked. “My  _what_ ?!”

“Well, you haven't done anything as a woman yet, right?” George pointed out.

Harry blushed so red that his face looked like it was glowing like Rudolph's nose! “That's none of your business!” He wasn't about to tell George that he had a toy that had helped him discover the joys of a woman's body. So far, he was of the opinion that sex was better as a man.

Before anyone could say another word, the fire flared to life and a face appeared in the flames. Ginny looked around curiously. Then she grinned.

“Looking hot 'Mione!”

“Thanks Gin,” Hermione murmured with a pleased smile.

Then Ginny looked at Harry. “George told us about your curse, Harry. Now that I see it for myself, I'm frankly jealous! Anyway, mum and dad have both said that they want you to come tomorrow as Ari so that Bill can take a look at this curse and make sure that there's nothing dangerous about it.”

“That's a good idea,” Hermione murmured.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry agreed with a smile. “See you then.” 

“See ya!” Ginny called out. “And try to wear something drab so I don't feel so ugly by comparison!”

With a laugh, Harry reached out to take Hermione's hand. Without a word but with a wave to say goodbye, Hermione Apparated them to the only nightclub in Diagon Alley. Harry grinned.

“I'm glad you understood that I didn't want to argue with Ron anymore about going out,” he murmured.

“Me either,” Hermione's stated. “He already agreed that we could go out and have some fun. It's really not fair of him to get jealous just because we both look like sex on legs.”

They entered the club and looked around to see if there was anyone they knew. Almost immediately, they spotted Luna sitting with Neville and Dean Thomas. She straightened up as if she could feel them look at her, turned around, smiled her soft and mysterious smile, and then got up to walk over to them.

“Hi Harry,” she said in his ear so that he could hear her over the loud music.

“Did George tell _everyone_?!” Harry asked incredulously.

“Did George tell me what?” Luna asked curiously.

Harry gestured significantly to indicated himself. Luna giggled and shook her head. “George didn't tell me anything. I figured it out by the color of your Aura and the fact that all the wrackspurts around your head are the same.”

“Oh...” Harry murmured, not sure what to say to that.

“Hello Hermione,” Luna greeted serenely.

“Hi Luna,” Hermione returned the greeting with a happy grin. “We're here to flirt and dance! What are you doing here?”

“Oh, much the same, I suppose,” Luna answered with a dreamy smile.

“Please don't tell anyone who I am, and call me Ari,” Harry insisted fervently, noticing how a couple of blokes were quickly gathering up the courage to come talk to him.

“Your secret is safe with me, Ari,” Luna assured him with a soft smile and a kiss to the cheek. “Can I have the first dance? I suspect that you'll be quite popular in just a few minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry permitted with a fond smile. They moved onto the dance floor even as Hermione gestured an invitation for Neville to come over and dance with her. Neville was a great dancer, so he accepted the invitation with a smile.

“Ron's going to kill me, isn't he?” Neville asked as he led Hermione onto the dance floor.

“Nope, he stayed home so that he wouldn't be tempted to murder anyone,” Hermione informed him.

“Good,” Neville stated since he very much wanted to live. “So... who's your friend?”

“Ari. She's our age but a squib, so you wouldn't have met her before.”

“She looks so familiar,” Neville murmured with a puzzled frown.

“I know what you mean,” Hermione agreed without giving away the secret. “I think she just has one of those faces.”

Neville shrugged it off and focused on dancing. After the song ended, Harry and Hermione switched partners. Harry smiled at Neville, wondering how long before yet another one of his friends asked him to get married.

“Hermione tells me that you can teach me how to dance better,” Harry said.

“You're not doing bad,” Neville stated honestly. “You just need practice.”

“Good to know,” Harry replied with a grin.

“Besides, looking like that, someone's going to eventually want to do that type of dancing that doesn't have steps anyway,” Neville said, pointing to a couple off to the side that was basically swaying in one spot and grinding their hips together. “I'm too much of a gentleman to do something like that in public though, so don't worry that I'll try anything.”

“Thanks Neville,” Harry replied with a genuine smile. “I'm still new to all of this, so I appreciate that you're not pressuring me.”

“New to what?” Neville asked curiously.

“To flirting. To dancing in a club. To having men want to bring me to bed,” Harry answered with a shrug.

Neville chuckled. “Well, if you don't want men to want to bed you, you should try to look plainer – rather than dress up.”

“I didn't say I didn't want it, just that I'm not used to it yet. You could say that I was a late bloomer,” Harry explained with a chuckle.

After their dance ended, Harry found that he really was a popular partner. Men would buy him drinks and dance with him. It took only an hour for Harry to feel thoroughly tipsy. Hermione had quite forgotten that she was supposed to be looking out for Harry and had gotten utterly drunk. Luna and Neville volunteered to bring her home when she started giggling like mad and hanging off of everyone who came near her.

A few minutes after that, Draco Malfoy arrived. He noticed Harry immediately and asked for a dance. As tipsy as he was, Harry thought it would be an excellent joke to dance with the pointy blond git – even if the joke was never said out loud. So they danced.

Something strange happened almost right away. With Draco in the lead, Harry found himself dancing better than ever before. Despite being more than half drunk! The two of them flowed all over the dance floor like the finest silk; smooth and beautiful.

After their third dance, Harry felt like he was perilously close to swooning. He steadied himself by clinging to Draco, and the smoky look in those gray eyes was enough to light fires all across Harry. Without giving it much thought, Harry kissed Draco, provoking groans of disappointment from the rest of the blokes in the club.

“Since when do you kiss women?” Blaise asked with a mildly jealous look as he interrupted them.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You know very well that I am bisexual.”

“Yeah, but you've been focused on men lately,” Blaise stated with a shrug.

Draco placed a hand on the back of Harry's neck and left little doubt that he planned to snog again in just a moment. “It's those eyes. Green eyes have always been a weakness of mine.”

“They have?” Harry asked, feeling like this was important information but too tipsy to fully understand why.

“Mmm,” Draco confirmed, their lips separated by less than an inch of air.

“Ugh! I'm going to get something to drink!” Blaise announced in mild disgust at watching his friend woo a woman.

“My place?” Draco asked breathlessly when they broke apart for air a few minutes later.

“Yes,” Harry agreed, equally as breathlessly.

Draco Apparated them directly to his bedroom where things got so hot and heavy that Draco nearly climaxed the moment they threw all their clothes off and hit the bed. In an effort to calm down a bit and prolong the experience, he shifted to worship Harry's body with his mouth.

Harry closed his eyes and relished the feeling of a hot mouth licking and kissing trails across his breasts, stomach, legs, and then... Harry gasped incredulously. He'd never had this particular experience before. Well, since he'd never had sex as a woman before, it was all new to him. Even so, the feeling of having his clitoris stimulated by something other than his own fingers was mind blowing. It was different and in some ways better than a blowjob. At the same time, the experience was less satisfying in that it took longer and that was a bit frustrating.

Draco was an attentive lover who took the time to thoroughly please Harry. By the time that slowly building feeling like lava finally overwhelmed him, Harry was positively writhing and squealing like a stuck pig. His hands were in Draco's hair and his back arched clear off the bed.

With a soft and smug grin – that was well deserved – Draco chuckled and shifted into position. He entered Harry with a smooth thrust, prompting Harry to moan and cling to Draco as they ground together. It felt so good that Harry squeezed his eyes shut and held on tight. Until a particularly happy groan from Draco made him open his green eyes and look directly into those molten gray ones.

That was all it took for Draco to reach the end. He dug his fingers into Harry's hips and pushed as deep as possible as he filled Harry up with what felt like an entire ocean. After he was completely empty, Draco collapsed onto Harry to rest. Harry was drunk enough that he more or less passed out right away.

Draco was hit by a wave of lethargy just as a thought occurred to him. For the first time ever, he had forgotten to use protection spells. He tried to gather the energy to move but was far too relaxed and sleepy.

“I'll cast the appropriate spell in the morning,” he muttered to himself before giving into the seductive call of sleep.

In the morning, an intangible silvery Jack Russell Terrier burst into existence by the bed next to Harry. “Mate, where are you? It's nearly time to go to the Burrow.” Ron's voice asked before the terrier disappeared.

Harry groaned and put a hand to his head as he woke up rather abruptly. He looked around and realized that he wasn't in his own bed. Hot memories played through his mind, making him blush. A gasp tore from him as he sat up and gaped at Draco.

“Oh God! What was I thinking?!” He shouted at himself in a whisper so that he wouldn't wake the gorgeous sleeping man.

Harry slipped from the soft and silky bed and tiptoed around as he quickly gathered his belongings. He didn't even take the time to dress as he practically ran to the fireplace.

“Wait,” Draco slurred sleepily.

“I can't!” Harry cried out way more dramatically than the situation called for. He tossed a pinch of Floo powder in the fireplace, whispered _Grimmauld Place,_ and then nearly jumped into the dark green fire.

“Wait!” Draco called again, but it was the last thing Harry heard before he tumbled out of his own fireplace, which was – of course – in the kitchen where Ron and Hermione were waiting for him.

“Are you okay?!” Ron asked in concern. They had guessed based on the fact that Harry hadn't returned home that he had pulled, but it was still shocking to see Harry standing there naked and disheveled. And panicked.

Hermione winced from a hangover and wished once again that they'd bought some remedy potion at some point. “Did something bad happen?”

“Er...” Harry wasn't quite sure how to explain it.

“Oh no!” Hermione cried out as she jumped to the worst conclusion. “I shouldn't have gotten drunk and left you! I should have insisted that Luna and Neville bring you home too!”

“Hermione!” Harry roared, dropping his clothes so that he could hold his hands up in an attempt to calm her down. “Nothing bad happened, I just... I just don't know how to explain it.”

“Explain what? You got drunk and went home with someone,” Ron stated with a shrug. “We figured that part out before you came home.”

Harry sighed, slumped into a chair next to the table, and then fiddled with an empty tea cup. “Well yeah, that's true. It's just...”

“Just what?” Both Ron and Hermione asked with a curious frown.

“It's just that I can't explain why I chose _him_ of all people,” Harry muttered. Then – before they could insist on more details – Harry stood up and walked away. “I need to take a shower and get dressed so that we can go to the Burrow.”

“Who do you suppose?” Ron asked his girlfriend.

“Don't know,” Hermione answer with a shake of her head.

Later on, at the Burrow, Molly's tight hug made Harry smile and push away his tumultuous thoughts.

“Oh Harry, love! George was right! You look so beautiful like this,” Molly said, holding onto Harry's hands and smiling at him.

“And you don't find it weird?” Harry asked with a raised brow.

“Maybe just a bit, but if this curse makes you feel like you can walk around in public again, then who am I to argue?” Molly asked, obviously not expecting an answer.

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. “Besides, after having seven children, we've learned to expect the unexpected and accept those things we may not necessarily agree with.”

“Such as Bill's hair!” Molly clucked, her gaze landing on her oldest son. “You're married now! You should have much shorter hair!”

“God no!” Harry, Fleur, and Hermione gasped in unison.

Ron burst out laughing, overjoyed to be the one doing the heckling for a change. “After George asked Harry to marry him and was turned down, Harry and Hermione  _both_ admitted that Bill has great hair and an attractive arse.”

“Well he does,” Fleur stated as if this was not only a fact but one to be proud of.

Bill quirked an eyebrow at Harry. “I'm not sure which is more amusing, that George asked you to marry him, or that I somehow factored into the reason you turned him down.”

Harry blushed. “I just told him that you were more my type than he was.”

“Ah,” Bill stated with a grin, and then cast a few diagnostic spells on Harry. “So this curse is rather harmless, as curses go. It's not intended to physically harm you but rather humiliate you by making you into the epitome of a damsel – a fair and delicate maiden. I suppose that it was an effective curse back when being turned into a woman was considered a fate worse than death, but as you've discovered, there are obvious benefits to the curse for someone who doesn't think that being a woman is an insult.”

Harry nodded because he knew what Bill was talking about. “I've done more reading on this curse, and I think I've figured out why the damsel's beauty is so enhanced. It had to do with the spoils of battle. If two powerful warriors were fighting, and one happened to be a wizard who could cast this curse on the other, the new damsel was considered one of the spoils that went to the victor. It makes sense that the victor would want his new... er, well, the victim, to be beautiful.”

Ron looked around curiously. “Where's George? I have the feeling that this is where he's supposed to make some reference to the victim being screwed over both figuratively and literally.”

“George already let us know that he'd be a few minutes late. The person running the shop today called him for help when a rush of customers stopped in,” Arthur explained.

Bill finished up his diagnostics and put his wand away. “I can't find evidence that anything went wrong with the curse, so it should be safe enough for you to use as much as you want.”

Ron snorted. “That's good since he hasn't ended it in nearly a week!”

A light hint of a blush colored Harry's cheeks, which he shrugged off. “I'm having too much fun. I've been able to go out and act like a normal person – as opposed to the Savior – and no one has figured it out. Well, except for Luna, who says that my aura and wrackspurts are still the same. Whatever that means.”

Bill winked at Harry with a hint of a flirty smirk. “And now probably isn't the best time to end the curse either since you're wearing something that definitely wouldn't fit you as a man.”

Harry looked at himself and smiled faintly. “Well, Ginny asked me to wear something that would make me ugly, but this was the closest I had.” This referred to a pair of black yoga pants and a plain blue but close fitting feminine tee shirt. The result wasn't ugly by any stretch of the imagination, but it didn't make Harry look like sex on legs either.

For the first time in several weeks, Charlie came home, but first, Percy and his wife, George, and Ginny arrived. The moment Charlie emerged from the fireplace, he looked up and saw Harry. He didn't _know_ that it was Harry, so he had no idea who was standing in his parents house.

“Oh wow! Hello, I'm Charlie. If you weren't a woman, I'd –” he cut himself off with an embarrassed flush.

“Ask me to marry you?” Harry supplied with an amused smile.

Charlie simply nodded, still rather embarrassed and now a bit tongue tied.

“Oh hell no!” George burst out emphatically. “I asked first!”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “I'm not marrying  _anyone_ .”

“Aww,” George groaned in disappointment. “But Harry, I'm telling you that with all the mischief we could get up to, marriage would be so much fun!”

“I'm sure it would, but when I do decide to get married, it will be as _Harry_ and not as Ari, so...” he trailed off with a shrug, letting everyone know that he wasn't planning to stay a woman forever – just for now.

“Wait!” Charlie blurted out in surprise. “So... you're actually _Harry_? As in Harry Potter? As a woman?”

“Yep,” Harry confirmed with a smile.

“In that case,” Charlie responded with a grin. “I think I'd like to ask you to marry me after all. Unlike George, I'd actually prefer to marry the man.”

Harry sighed as if defeated, slumping for just a moment. “As I said, I'm not marrying anyone.”

Ron held up his hands. “And please stop asking because that's literally the first thing everyone asks him, and it's getting annoying.”

“Right!” Molly called out loudly to get everyone's attention. “Now that we're all here, let's sit down and eat!”

Harry cast her a grateful smile. Within minutes, they were all sitting at the table with Percy's wife, Audrey, asking Harry all about his curse. Harry smiled and told her everything. In return, she promised not to tell anyone his secret. All in all, it was a cozy family gathering.

 

***

 

“Mate! Why aren't you ready to go?!” Ron demanded urgently.

“Huh?” Harry asked in confusion for one moment before remembering. “Oh! I'll be ready in a moment, I was just reading this invitation. I didn't really expect Pansy Parkinson to invite us to her wedding.”

“Didn't she say she basically had to?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, and then tossed the invitation aside. Then a thought hit him, making him smirk mischievously. “Hey, want to be my date to the wedding?”

Ron snorted in amusement. “Why not? It'll confuse those betting in the pool.”

Harry gaped for one second. “Don't tell me that Hermione actually started that?!”

Ron laughed. “She did, but I was the first one to place a bet.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Now change back into Harry already so we can go,” Ron insisted.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry agreed. As he got undressed, he realized that it felt very strange to be changing back into Harry after almost three whole weeks as Ari – aside from last Saturday night in which he had changed back to Harry for a few hours to hang out, drink beer, and play poker with Ron, Seamus, Neville, Dean, and George. “Do you want to cast the counter curse, or do you want me to ask 'Mione?”

Ron shrugged. “I can do it.” Which he promptly proved by doing exactly that.

Harry felt a bit dizzy and swayed on his feet for a moment as the world righted itself. With a groan, he put a hand over his stomach. “Apparently, changing back is upsetting to my stomach, but... I'm already starting to feel better.”

“That makes a bit of sense though, right?” Ron asked, reasoning this out. “The curse is designed to make the victim weak, right? Well the counter curse would probably also make you a bit weak to give the first bloke time to get away if you're still in battle, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a nod. He summoned a pair of jeans and a plain black tee shirt. 

Ron snickered quietly as he realized that Harry was going commando, but otherwise said nothing. Harry bit his lip and looked to the ceiling as he thought. Previously, he honestly didn't care what he looked like, but now that he had been a woman for a while, he had a little lingering sense that he should put in an effort at least. So, he conjured up a mirror and made adjustments to his clothing until both the jeans and the tee fit him rather snugly and made his arse look fantastic.

He caught Ron watching him with a strange expression. “What?”

Ron shook his head in denial for a moment, and then shrugged. “I just wondered if looking good and fashion were things that mattered to you now.”

Harry sighed, understanding that this whole thing had to be weird for Ron. That said, Ron was handling the situation rather well. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“Well, alright then. Ready?”

Harry smiled, grateful for his best friend. “Yeah, let's go.”

At the game, things were fairly normal. The two of them drank plenty of beer and cheered on their team. The magic projections of the crowd often lingered on Harry, but nothing too bad... until the Canons lost and Puddlemere United insisted that Harry and Ron fly out and join in their celebration. Ron only agreed because it would give him an opportunity to meet the Canons too.

As he flew around the Quidditch pitch, Harry gave some serious thought to why he felt vaguely dirty. His stomach twisted and he thought he was going to vomit for a moment. This same attention could have been directed at Ari with no problems, but for some reason that Harry couldn't figure out, the attention directed at him felt disgusting. Trying his best not to ruin the day for anyone else, Harry plastered a smile on his face and waved to the crowd.

 

***

 

Harry stayed in his own body as he went out drinking with Ron, and then when they went to the Burrow for lunch the next day. Harry's head pounded from drinking too much the night before, and his stomach rolled around alarmingly. There was even a strange ache and full feeling in his lower abdomen.

Molly clucked and fretted over him like a mother hen, especially when he couldn't gather up enough appetite to eat more than a few bites. Harry moaned pathetically and let her fuss simply because he loved having a mother (or something very close to it) to fuss over him. She felt his head for a fever, and then cast a hangover cure on him which made him feel about 80 percent better. Enough so that he could eat, but not enough to get rid of the weirdness in his abdomen.

Later that day, after the Golden Trio had returned home, Hermione groaned and held a hand to her stomach.

“Eat too much?” Harry asked curiously. “Will you curse me again?”

“No, cramps,” Hermione murmured as she pulled out her wand and cast the Damsel Curse on Harry. “You're lucky that you don't have to worry about getting a period.”

“Wait, won't he?” Ron asked with a frown. “The book said that he was an actual woman while cursed.”

“Good point,” Hermione acknowledged, then hummed softly in thought. “I suppose he might.”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe that's why I feel weird. Like there's a weight right here.” He pointed to his abdomen right above his groin.

“Yeah, that's how I sometimes feel just before I get my period,” Hermione stated sympathetically. “And then you'll get cramps. Don't freak out when you start to bleed in a couple of days.”

Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Mate, when that starts happening, just change back for the rest of the week!”

“Yeah, no kidding!” Harry agreed, chuckling because it was nice to have that option.

 

***

 

Two weeks later, Ron was waiting in the kitchen for his girlfriend and their best friend to finish getting dressed. “Don't get me wrong, it's not like I even want to  _go_ to this wedding, but if you two don't hurry up, we're going to be late!” Ron shouted up the stairs. He was wearing a rather nice set of black dress robes that made him look good. He held the invitation in his hands and looked at it again.

_Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and guest(s) are cordially invited to the wedding of Pansy Parkinson and Ivan St. Peter._ It went on to list the date, time, and location. Ron shook his head as he once again marveled at how he was considered part of the important crowd now that he had helped Harry save the world. He even had his own Chocolate Frog Card!

“Sorry!” Hermione called out. “It's my stupid hair!”

“We're almost done,” Harry assured him.

Sure enough, less than five minutes later, Harry and Hermione emerged from the room that Harry had designated as his walk-in closet. As a man, he didn't have a lot of clothes, and he also didn't really care about getting ready, but as a woman, he did. Thus, he had a room set up to store his clothes so that he could get dressed and spend time on his hair and – most shocking of all – his makeup. Hermione had taken a shine to this room, and now spent a bit of time in it with Harry. She still didn't spend too much time on her appearance, but when she did – such as dressing up to go to a wedding – it was nice to have a place to do so.

When they finally joined Ron in the kitchen a minute later, they looked their absolute best. Ron gulped as he saw them. His eyes were glued to his girlfriend, having swept briefly over both of them and settled on Hermione's face and hair.

“You look gorgeous,” he told her honestly.

“Do I?” Hermione asked with a pleased smile before turning in a circle. She was wearing a shimmering lavender dress that had spaghetti straps and showed off a fair amount of cleavage – along with her back – but wasn't truly meant to be sexy. The rest of the dress was a close fit down past her hips where the skirt then flared out to form waves that would bell out if she spun in a circle.

Harry was wearing a matching dress in red, which looked surprisingly good on him considering that it somewhat clashed with his hair and eyes. Both of them had done their hair so that the majority of it was up off their necks, but had artistically placed curls escaping everywhere. Lastly, they both wore just enough makeup to enhance their features without being too noticeable. Harry and Hermione had agreed that subtle was what worked best for both of them when it came to makeup.

The effect was nearly overwhelming to poor Ron. He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from Hermione's hair to look her in the eye. “I ask again, are you sure we  _have_ to go? I find that I'd now much prefer to stay here and have you all to myself.”

Hermione chuckled and gave him a deep but brief kiss. “I suppose that we don't  _have_ to go, but I really want to. This is the first major social event since the war, and I'm looking forward to seeing how much progress has been made.”

Ron sighed in defeat. “Yeah, I figured you'd say that.” He held up the invitation again. “This has the Apparation Coordinates here. Do you want to do the honors, or should I?”

“I'll do it,” Hermione answered with a soft smile. The fact was that out of the three of them, she had the longest record of Side-Along Apparation and they trusted her implicitly. 

The moment they reached the Apparation point, Harry leg go of Hermione hand and slipped his hand through Ron's arm. Hermione had her hand tucked in his other arm, and they were trying to give everyone the impression that Ron was both of their date for the evening. Hermione loved this because it would add bets to the pool and confuse the outcome. 

Harry privately vowed to keep any relationships an absolute secret so that if he ever decided to get married, no one would have an advantage for winning.

They found themselves at the end of a line of guests who had also just arrived. Each group was announced by an official herald before they descended a set of grand stairs into an enormous ballroom. As it turned out, Pansy and Ivan had had their ceremony in private that morning and were now sitting at a table on a dais in the middle of the ballroom so that they could watch their guests arrive and greet them all. Draco Malfoy stood next to Pansy and an unknown man stood next to Ivan.

Considering that Harry as Harry was not with Ron and Hermione, no one had noticed them standing in line, but when it came time for them to be announced, everyone fell silent to watch them descend the stairs.

“Presenting Mr. Ronald Weasley, Ms. Hermione Granger, and Ms. Ari Porter,” the herald called out, triggering the unexpected silence. 

“Porter?” Ron asked Harry as they walked down the steps.

“It was the only thing I could think of,” Harry replied defensively.

Hermione snickered, talking softly. “If it gets any more obvious, I'm going to have to start a pool on how long it takes for the Daily Prophet to run a story on: The Savior; Cursed to be a Woman!”

Harry laughed. “Just as long as they don't ask me to do a photoshoot!”

Ron chuckled. “Knowing them, they'd want to sneak in and get pictures of you in the shower as undeniable proof, which they'd have to blur the bottom half of anyway.”

The three of them laughed so hard at that tidbit that it was lucky that they had made it to the bottom of the stairs without tripping. They continued to laugh lightly as they made their way to the table where Pansy was sitting. She had a strange look on her face.

“Thank you for coming,” she murmured with a mostly sincere smile. 

Without breaking the link of their arms, Harry and Hermione curtseyed as was expected of them when greeting someone of Ivan's station, while Ron bowed.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Hermione returned, also with a smile. She reached into her miniscule handbag and pulled out a long white box with silver cloth ribbons tying it closed. It was a very fine set of matching scarves, hats, and gloves for the both of them, knitted by Hermione using an extremely soft and delicate mohair yarn. The quality was such that Hermione could have gotten a large payment for them, but she considered it the perfect gift for a wedding. “This is from Ron and me.” Pansy accepted the box with a smile and handed it to a house elf – who promptly set it in a room with all the other gifts.

“A pleasure to see you again,” Harry stated with a soft smile as he also pulled a box out of his tiny handbag. This one wasn't long. It was actually about four inches squared and contained an intricate and expensive pearl necklace and matching earrings. “Harry Potter asked me to apologize for his absence and give this to you – as a gift from both of us.”

Pansy gave Ari a genuine smile at first as she returned the greeting, but then it turned tight. “And why didn't Harry Potter come?”

“He's feeling dreadful today,” Harry lied with an expression of sympathy. “He didn't want to risk getting any of your guests sick.”

“Hmm...” Pansy practically harrumphed, but didn't argue. “Well, please enjoy the party. If you need anything, just let a house elf know. Also, the guests who are muggles can only see human attendants, so if you could avoid mentioning elves or magic, that would be lovely.”

Her husband had smiled at them the entire time, but now actually spoke. “And hopefully, both of you lovely ladies will save me a dance.”

“I will,” Harry agreed, bobbing him another quick curtsey since Hermione had drilled it into him that he was supposed to respond to any direct communication from Ivan with one.

Hermione also bobbed a curtsey, but declined to promise a dance. After they walked away from the table, Ron nudged them playfully.

“We might as well mingle and get a bite to eat.”

Harry grinned. “I bet they'll have all kinds of fancy food here.” He felt a weird prickling along his spine and looked over his shoulder to find Draco watching him – his expression was blank but there was an intensity in his eyes that made Harry wonder if he was actually jealous. Harry tested this theory by snuggling into Ron and was rewarded as a dark sneer flickered over Draco's face.

_Hmm_ ... Harry hummed in thought,  _interesting_ .

Ron turned his head so that his face towered mere inches above Harry's. “Why are you cuddling me?” 

Harry looked up at him with a mischievous smirk. “Trying to fool those betting in the pool, remember?”

They mingled and ate – as Ron suggested – for about an hour when the floor was suddenly cleared and the music changed from soft orchestral to louder music suited for dancing. Hermione tapped Harry's shoulder. 

“The dancing is starting. Remember, you promised me the first dance!”

Harry nodded, but then pointed to Pansy and Ivan. “It looks like they will actually have the first dance.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I meant after them.”

Pansy and Ivan began their dance with a basic waltz, which seemed to make a group of older men and women watching them nod approvingly. After one full minute, the music changed to something more upbeat, and so did their dance. It was now a rather fun and flirty dance that seemed perfect for a newly married couple. However, it made those approving nods stop and frowns appear. Clearly, that elderly group couldn't appreciate the behavior of younger people these days.

When the dance ended and others migrated to the floor, Ron tilted his head to give Harry and Hermione permission to go dance. He had watched them practice it a bit, but hadn't seen the whole dance together. All he knew was that it was the last dance from a movie Hermione loved called Dirty Dancing.

Hermione, being the taller of the two, started off in the lead. There were parts in which it didn't really matter who was in the lead, but for the flashier parts, they took turns so that they could each show off a bit. They skipped the major lift for obvious reasons but still had a blast with the dance anyway. Especially the many near kisses that would also give everyone the wrong impression and the part at the end where they repeatedly pressed their bosoms together.

Ron eventually cut into to what would be a never ending dance because they were having so much fun. He took Hermione away to do the one dance that she'd had him perfect so that they would look good together at any event that required dancing. And they did look good as they were obviously having fun.

Harry thought that he would leave the floor and get something to drink, except that a man he had never met before asked him to dance. Not wanting to look like the clumsy idiot that he was, Harry wandlessly and wordlessly cast a spell to make it so that he would automatically follow any dance partner's lead with a decent amount of grace. Even so, he was frankly amazed by some of the things his lithe female body could do.

When each dance ended, there would be another man ready to take over. Harry danced so much that he felt like his head was spinning. Ron eventually managed to get a dance with him, which gave Harry a bit of a rest since Ron wasn't able to do any of the more energetic dancing that Harry had been doing.

“How are you doing that?” Ron asked, whispering in Harry's ear. “I _know_ you're not that good of a dancer!”

Harry laughed. “I cast a spell. It makes it so that I automatically do whatever my partner has in mind. Which makes it  _so much easier_ ! Even so, I'm just about dying for a drink!”

“I'll bet!” Ron replied with a snort of amusement. He led Harry off the floor while everyone else was still occupied with dancing. Harry was so grateful to be led to the punch bowl that he kissed Ron on the cheek.

Harry just barely had enough time to cool down by the time the song ended. Draco seemed to appear out of nowhere and bowed to Harry. “May I have this dance?”

“Er...” Harry hesitated, and then shrugged. “Why not?”

Draco led Harry back onto the dance floor, every part of him exuded the grace that came naturally to those trained in dancing. The dance was a rather tame waltz, which Harry was actually grateful for. The two of them didn't really say anything for the first half of the dance, but then Draco pulled Harry just a bit closer and whispered: “Watching you dance with everyone else has made me feel strangely jealous and I don't even know why.”

Harry raised a brow and let a hint of a smirk twist his lips. “It's not like we are dating or anything. Hell! We're not even friends!”

“Yes, which is why I'm a bit confused. Will you take a break from dancing and talk with me? I have something I wanted to ask you,” Draco informed him enigmatically.

Harry frowned. “You're not going to ask me to date you, are you?”

Draco shook his head.

Harry took a deep breath, and then took note of the way his body tingled and didn't want Draco to let go. Exhaling slowly, he nodded. “Alright.”

Not wasting a moment, Draco led them off the dance floor and toward an exit that he knew would bring them to an empty sitting room. He locked it and put up a silencing charm just so that they could talk without being interrupted. Then he took two steps away from Harry, running a hand through his perfect hair in his distraction.

“So...”

Harry wasn't drunk this time, but he still felt an overwhelming urge to kiss Draco, so that's what he did. He grabbed Draco, forced him to turn around, and then kissed him quite insistently. Draco reacted by locking his arms around Harry and responding with equal fervor.

A moment later, Draco backed Harry into the wall. Harry grunted at the unexpectedness of being pressed into the wall, but didn't break off their kiss. Instead, he gripped Draco's shoulders until he had leverage to hop up and wrap his legs around Draco's waist.

Draco shifted them a few times as he gathered the front of Harry's skirt into a bundle at their waists, and then impatiently magicked open his posh black trousers. The moment his rigid shaft was free, he shifted Harry's panties to the side and slid into the place he wanted to be more than anything at the moment.

Harry moaned happily, still focused on kissing Draco. Draco broke free for just one moment to whisper a spell before dropping his wand. Harry had a moment to wonder what the spell was, but then figured it out when he felt a tingling in his clitoris that could only be explained by magic.

“Uh!” Harry grunted in surprise, feeling himself get noticeably tighter around Draco's shaft. The spell made it so that Harry had no problems at all reaching orgasm. In fact, it didn't even take long, maybe five minutes, before Harry was squealing and writhing against Draco.

This wild abandonment – something that was rare in the circles he was part of – pulled an orgasm from Draco, making him gasp breathlessly as he pumped Harry full. They leaned against each other and the wall and panted for several long moments.

Then Draco chuckled softly. “You know, I really did just want to talk.”

This brought Harry crashing back to reality. “Oh God!” He cried out in alarm. He pushed Draco away and shifted his panties back to where they should be as his skirt fell back into place. “I did it again!”

Draco frowned as he realized that Harry was just going to run away again. “Ari, wait!”

Draco's hand on Harry's arm made him spin around and glare at Draco. “No! Let go of me!”

“Not until you tell me what's wrong!” Draco insisted.

“I shouldn't be having sex with _you_ , that's what's wrong! And worse! I wasn't even drunk this time!” Harry wrenched his arm free and took a few steps back.

“Why not me?” Draco asked, not quite able to hide how hurt he felt. “We obviously have quite a lot of passion between us.”

Harry wracked his brains to come up with the first plausible excuse that Draco might accept. “Because I'm a squib and your family fought to take away and control my rights!”

Draco paled. He couldn't actually argue that point. “Yes, but –” 

“No!” Harry roared, holding up both hands defensively. “No! This can't happen again!” He yanked open the door and ran out of the room before Draco could say another word. 

Part of the reason for this was that Draco was staring at the door in astonishment. He had locked it with a spell, and so a squib shouldn't have been able to open it at all, much less by hand and without an unlocking spell cast by someone else first. For the first time since he'd met Ari, Draco's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“There's more to her than she's saying,” he murmured to himself.

 

***

 

A month later, Harry was holding his head in his hands and groaning pathetically. He was suffering from the worst hangover he could ever remember having. Once again, he and Ron had gone over to Seamus' flat to play poker and had gotten thoroughly smashed. Thus, Harry was in his own body, but he couldn't decide if his hangover would be better or worse if he was in Ari's body.

“Oh for heaven's sake!” Hermione chided with a soft frown. “Here, I brewed up some hangover potion since we seem to need it quite a bit lately.”

Harry gulped the potion down very eagerly, and then sighed in relief when the pain receded. Ron asked for a potion too, also sighing in relief before kissing his girlfriend on the cheek.

“You're a Godsend!” He gushed happily.

Hermione blushed, obviously pleased by the compliment.

Harry summoned a cup of tea that Hermione had made and took a sip. It tasted wonderful and made Harry sigh once again. Until his stomach churned and made him lean over the side of the table rather abruptly. For the first time that he could remember, he was grateful that he had a house elf to clean up his messes as there was now a rather nasty one on the floor of the kitchen.

“Harry!” Hermione gasped in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” Harry groaned miserably.

Rather than answer the sarcastic question, Hermione took out her wand and cast a few spells to diagnose whether he had the flu or some other illness, but nothing came up positive. “I'm not sure what's wrong.”

“I just don't feel good,” Harry stated with a shrug.

“Yeah but _why_?” Hermione reiterated, biting her lip in concern.

“Maybe the potion just didn't work for him,” Ron suggested with a shrug, and then frowned when he noticed his girlfriend go rather bug eyed. “What?”

“Harry! … Did you ever have your period?” 

Harry was resting his head on the table and mentally trying to will his stomach into behaving. “No, I haven't, so I must not be a real and complete woman after all.”

“Er...” Hermione hesitated, and then decided to just ask. “That night at the club, when you pulled... Did you use any of the protection spells?”

Harry looked up at her in confusion. “Protection spells for what?” The only such spell he could remember reading about at the moment was a test to see if either participant had any transmittable diseases. “Oh! You think I picked up an STI!”

“Well, no... I think you're pregnant...” Hermione practically whispered because she wasn't sure how Harry would take this news. 

Both Harry and Ron laughed outright for a few moments until the possibility sank in. Ron sobered up first. “Wait, you're  _serious_ !”

This prompted Harry to stop laughing. “How could I be pregnant? I'm not a wo – oh!  _Fuck_ ...”

Hermione waved her wand around again, this time casting a pregnancy test spell. When Harry lit up a golden yellow, her mouth dropped open. Ron went bugged eyed at the expression on her face.

“Mate, I'm pretty sure that means you are, but I don't understand, how can you still be pregnant now that you've turned back into Harry?” Ron asked, frowning and staring at Harry's stomach as if expecting to see it swell up in an obvious bulge.

Harry shook his head and made a gesture that clearly said:  _I have no idea_ .

Hermione was biting her lip again. “I think it must be... The... The  _baby_ must be magically protected somehow. The womb remaining even after Harry returns to normal.”

Harry sighed. “And you're  _sure_ that test is correct?”

“Yes,” Hermione confirmed with a nod.

“Fuck...” Harry reiterated, holding his head in his hands once more.

Ron put a hand on his shoulder. “Mate, it's shocking but it's not the end of the world. We'll be here no matter what you decide.”

“Yeah,” Hermione half whispered because she was suddenly wondering – with the mood Harry seemed to be in – if he was considering getting rid of the baby. She decided to be proactive in her support. “I can look up the spell to get rid of it and then teach you the necessary protection spells so that this doesn't happen again.”

Harry took a deep breath, and then looked up at his best friends. “Thanks. Both of you. But I... I couldn't get rid of it. I always wanted kids, I just didn't think that I'd literally be  _having_ them. And I thought that I'd be married first, but...” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Don't go out and get married just because you're pregnant,” Ron advised, rather wisely. “That never seems to work out.”

Hermione smiled at her boyfriend because there were times – like this – when he reminded her that he was brilliant in his own way.

“No, no marriage,” Harry agreed faintly. 

Hermione tentatively cleared her throat. “So... who is the father and should we send him an owl so that he can come over to talk about this?”

“No!” Harry gasped out in mild panic. “The last time he asked me to talk to him, we got side tracked by shagging again and – and that's not actually the important part. The important part is that I don't want him to know!”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a significant glance. Then Ron nodded to indicate that he'd do the talking. He patted Harry gently on the back.

“Harry, I might be a little confused by something. You're usually, er... Well, you usually only pull once in a while, and never the same person twice,” Ron began.

“Muggles,” Hermione added because Harry – as Harry – had never gone to bed with anyone from the magical world. As far as whether those muggles had been male or female, they didn't know because Harry didn't really give them the details. Now that they knew that Harry had definitely had sex with one man, they wondered if the rest had been men too.

Ron nodded and continued. “And yet you're saying that as Ari, you've had sex with the same person twice, and it's someone you don't even seem to like?”

Harry sighed heavily. “I know, it makes me a terrible person, but there you have it. I had sex with someone I really shouldn't have, and now I'm pregnant.”

“Harry...” Hermione said in a placating tone of voice. “You're not a bad person for having sex with someone you shouldn't. You're not the first one to do so, and you won't be the last. Is it because it's a man? Is that why you never want to talk much about the muggles you sleep with? Is it because you think we won't like you if you're gay?”

Harry looked up at her incredulously. “No! It's not that! I actually have had lovers of both genders, and so that would make me bisexual, I guess. I don't talk about them because they just so happened to be willing at the right time and don't mean anything to me.”

“Which is probably why you don't do that very often,” Hermione murmured sympathetically. “You really are the type to want a serious relationship. You just can't find a person that you can trust with _all_ the different parts of who you are. Muggles could accept that you went through a sort of war and have issues with that, but they wouldn't necessarily be allowed to know about your magic. While Witches and Wizards...”

Ron nodded in agreement and finished her sentence. “They might know about your magic but can't be trusted to be with you for  _you_ rather than the Savior...”

Harry was simply nodding lightly over and over. Then his stomach clenched and he slapped a hand over his mouth. When he felt like he could talk, he looked at Hermione.

“Curse me again so that I can go to Diagon Alley and pick up some potions to deal with this nausea,” he said.

Hermione smiled faintly. “Are you  _sure_ ? Look what turning into a woman has led to.”

It was Harry's turn to smile faintly. “I may not be quite ready for all of this, but I'm willing to bet that I'll eventually consider this the best part of the curse.”

Hermione sighed, her smile growing just a bit. “Alright then.” She cast the curse and Harry was surprised to find that his symptoms eased just a little bit. Enough that he didn't feel like he needed to hang his head over a rubbish bin, though he was still quite queasy.

“Harry,” Ron stated with a strange tone to his voice. “I'm – you know I try not to pry, but I'm concerned. Why won't you tell us who the father of the baby is? And probably most worrying of all, who could it possibly be that you don't even want _him_ to know that he's going to be a father? Don't you think he'd want to know?”

Harry narrowed his eyes and nearly glared at Ron. “Frankly, I don't really  _care_ if he wants to know!” After that, he stormed out of the kitchen to change out of the clothes he was now half drowning in. When he was ready, wearing a simple set of green robes, he Apparated to Diagon Alley.

In the Apothecary, Harry examined various potions to settle the stomach, wondering if he should ask whether any were made specifically for pregnancy. He nearly dropped the two potions he was studying when a voice startled him.

“Is your name really Ari Porter?” Draco asked, leaning rather elegantly against a shelf so that he could cross his arms and his legs as he looked at Harry.

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn't it be?” Harry asked defensively.

“Funny, see I checked, and there's no one by that name born to the Wizarding World. I _suppose_ that you could be recorded amongst the Muggles, but somehow I doubt it,” Draco stated with a look of pure challenge. “I think you're _lying_.”

Harry sighed in aggravation and rubbed his aching temples. “Look, I'm really not feeling well. Can we please have this conversation some other time?”

“Oh? Like when, exactly?” Draco questioned with a faint growl. “The last time I asked you to talk to me, you ran away before we actually got around to talking. Not to mention, I don't know where you live. I can gather that you're staying with the Golden Trio, but I don't know exactly where they are living, thus, I can't just drop in.”

Harry glared at him. “Well, perhaps you should consider that a good sign that I don't really want to talk to you.”

Draco ran a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. “What did I ever do to you?! Yes, you have a point in that my family is against squibs, but I'm not. Or at least I'm not anymore. I've learned that there's more to people than blood status and magical ability. I'm  _not_ saying that I want to go live with muggles and squibs and play happy families, but I  _can_ respect them.”

Harry shook his head, vowing not to give in so easily. “It doesn't matter whether you did anything to me personally. We're just not meant to get along!” Harry withdrew a few galleons from his pocket and tossed them at the shop owner – who was pretending not to watch them from behind the counter. It was enough to pay for the handful of potions Harry gathered into his arms, so the owner nodded in acceptance. Harry stepped around Draco and tried to leave, but Draco caught his arm.

“Why won't you give me a chance? I just want to talk for a bit,” Draco said, and then he frowned in concern. “And why are you buying stomach settling and headache potions?”

Harry yanked his arm free and snarled: “Just leave me alone, Malfoy!” He then put his potions into his tiny pouch so that he couldn't drop them.

Draco narrowed his eyes even more. “That sounds so familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it.” He followed Harry and grabbed his arm again. “Just please hear me out. I want a chance to convince you that –” 

But Harry had lost all his remaining patience. He really didn't feel well and all he wanted was to go home, take these potions, and take a nap. He yanked his arm free once more and just barely stopped himself from slapping Draco full across the face. Draco visibly flinched ever so slightly but otherwise didn't move.

“Get it through your thick skull, Malfoy, that I don't want to talk to you!” Harry roared, and then turned on the spot and Apparated home.

“I knew it,” Draco murmured, biting his lip in thought. “She is _not_ a squib!” Now, the only question that remained was: just exactly who _is_ Ari Porter?

 

***

 

The moment Harry arrived in his kitchen, he shouted in frustration and kicked a chair across the room. Ron and Hermione heard him and came running. Thankfully for them, they weren't doing anything more intimate than snuggling on the couch as they read.

“What's wrong?!” They blurted out in unison.

“ _Draco sodding Malfoy_!” Harry yelled emphatically. “Why can't he just leave me alone? I was just trying to mind my own business when he practically _ambushed_ me in the Apothecary!”

Ron had a mildly queasy look cross his face. “Well, you  _did_ dance with him at Pansy's wedding, right before the two of you disappeared, so he probably thinks that –” Ron cut himself off to gape at Harry like a fish out of water. “ _No..._ ”

“What? Ron, what are you...” Hermione trailed off as the realization hit her too. “Wait, _Malfoy_?!”

Harry threw the now empty headache potion vial across the room, strangely satisfied by the sound of it shattering. “Now do you see? Do you understand why I'm so terrible? I had bloody  _brilliant_ sex with Draco buggering Malfoy and now I'm pregnant, and he's acting like a decent person who just wants to talk but he has no idea who I really am and if I tell him I'm pregnant I'll have to tell him who I really am and he'll hate me even more and never want to speak to me again!”

“Whoa, calm down mate!” Ron insisted, shaking Harry lightly. “Take a breath. I'm not sure I caught all of that.”

Hermione shook her head, feeling inappropriately amused. “I think the important part of that word vomit was 'bloody brilliant sex,' 'Draco buggering Malfoy,' and 'tell him I'm pregnant.'”

Ron paled and sighed in defeat. “Yeah, that's why I thought he said.”

“Shall I send him an owl then? An invite to dinner perhaps?” Hermione asked in a purposely helpful tone of voice.

Harry was still panting from a state of near panic. He took a few deep breaths to try and calm down, but found that it didn't help. Suddenly, all of his emotions burst like a dam and he buried his face in Ron's chest.

Ron sent Hermione a pleading look that clearly said:  _My best friend is a woman who is sobbing all over me, what the hell do I do?!_

Hermione snickered and motioned for Ron to pat Harry soothingly on the back. Ron copied her awkwardly.

“There there, it'll be alright,” Ron murmured since he couldn't think of anything better to say.

This triggered more wailing from Harry. “What do you  _mean_ it'll be alright?! I'm pregnant with that prat Malfoy's child and he's going to think I did this on purpose as part of some sinister plot to screw him over and he's going to hate me and never speak to me again!”

Ron raised a brow as something occurred to him. “That's twice now that you specifically mentioned him never talking to you again. Is talking to him something you want?”

This made Harry fall quiet for a moment as he thought this over. “Well... I suppose it is.”

“Oi, _Malfoy_...” Ron whispered in mild exasperation, then he sighed. “Well, if you want to talk to him, you should probably try – oh I don't know – _talking_ to him. You don't even have to tell him that you're pregnant. Just... give him a chance or something. Maybe explain that you feel bad about having sex with him under an assumed identity.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “And if he can get past that, and is still interested in talking to you, maybe then you can tell him the, er,  _happy_ news.”

Harry sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand as he rested his head on Ron's chest. “But... what if he tries to hex me?”

“We'll be there to make sure that he doesn't,” Ron assured him. He was now rubbing Harry's back and feeling more comfortable since Harry had stopped crying.

In a soft and painfully vulnerable voice, Harry asked: “What if he gets so angry that he leaves and never talks to me again?”

“Well, then you'll basically be in the same situation that you already are if you _don't_ talk to him,” Ron stated with a shrug.

“Only you'll know that you at least tried,” Hermione added helpfully.

“That's true,” Harry admitted with a long exhalation, like he was getting rid of some negativity. Calmer now, he added: “Owl him.”

 

***

 

“This had better not be a joke,” Draco growled just after he stepped out of the fireplace. Then he read the owl he had received: “Dear Draco Malfoy, you are cordially invited to dinner tonight at half seven at number 12 Grimmauld Place for a chance to talk to Ari Porter. Sincerely, Hermione Granger.”

“You came,” Ron stated, clearly impressed.

“Listen Weasley, I don't know what sort of lies you've been feeding her, but I came to clear up any misunderstandings,” Draco stated defensively.

Ron smirked in sheer delight and raised his right hand. “I swear that I never said a word to Ari about you. Didn't have to; Ari came to whatever conclusions you are afraid of all on her own.”

Hermione cleared her throat significantly. “Please have a seat. Tea?”

“Where's Ari?” Draco asked suspiciously. “And – for that matter – where's Potter? This is his house, isn't it?”

Hermione gestured emphatically to the table, a smile so determined to be polite fixed to her face that it looked half maniacal. “Please. Sit.”

With a sigh of frustration, Draco sat.

“Tea?” Hermione asked again.

“Sure,” Draco capitulated even as he vowed not to drink anything they gave him.

Ron held up his hands as if surrendering. “I know this is going to offend you, but we want to make sure you have nothing on you that can hurt Ari, so I'm going to cast a detection spell.” Draco glared at him but didn't say anything as Ron slowly cast the spell. 

He looked to Hermione as she served the tea. “He's clean – except for his wand.”

Hermione squared her shoulders. “Would you please set your wand in the middle of the table so that we can see it at all times?”

“Oh for the love of – you make it sound like I'm planning to curse her! All I want is to talk!” Draco protested.

“Then you should have no problems laying down your wand,” Hermione reasoned. “Here, we'll go first.” She and Ron proved this by setting their wands on the table out of his reach, but not at hand either.

Taking a deep breath, Draco held up one hand as he slowly reached for his wand with the other. Before he set it on the table, he cast a detection spell on his tea to make sure that it wasn't poisoned or laced with Veritaserum. When the tea was proved clean, Draco set his wand on the table, just out of easy reach, and then took a tiny sip of his tea to prove that he was playing along with their paranoid game.

Satisfied, Hermione walked over to the stairs and called up them: “Ari!”

“Coming!”

As Draco waited for the infuriating woman to descend the stairs, he realized that the kitchen smelled amazing. Apparently, the offer of dinner was real. Another deep inhalation had his mouth watering. Draco usually didn't care for something as unrefined as spaghetti – which is what it smelled like – but this smelled so good that he might have to give it a try.

Harry was coming from the third floor. He bounded down the first two flights in excitement, until he realized that Draco was likely going to become enraged and try to hex him into next week. This prompted Harry to stop at the top of the final flight of stairs and hesitate for a long moment. Finally, he forced himself to trudge down the rest of the stairs to the kitchen.

“So... shall we have dinner first, or would you prefer to get right to it?” Harry asked nervously. He didn't realize it at first, but he was literally twisting his hands around each other. When he did realize this, he forced himself to stop.

Draco took note of those delicate hands first, and then the tension that was pouring off the raven haired beauty in invisible waves. Along those same lines, Draco noticed that she was wearing loose fitting black yoga pants and an over-sized green jumper that made her look like she was drowning in the sea. He frowned, wondering why she looked like she was expecting an execution.

“Is something wrong? You're the one that ran away from me! I didn't do anything to make you look like... like I'm going to cast an Avada Kedavra on you,” Draco pointed out, waving a hand to indicate the way Harry looked.

Harry felt like he had just been punched in the stomach and exhaled what seemed close to all the air in his lungs as he slumped over dejectedly. “ _I know_ ...” He squared his shoulders in determination. “Right. Get to it then.” 

He marched to the table and sat at a right angle to Draco. “So, I lied to you.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I figured that part out for myself, thanks.”

“You did?” Harry asked in astonishment.

Draco gave him a look like:  _Are you serious_ ? “I told you in the Apothecary that I couldn't find anyone by your name in the records. Plus, you keep saying that you're a squib, but you Apparated away. Thus, lying.”

Harry rested his forehead on his palm because he was highly tempted to smack himself. “Right. I'm such an idiot.” Before he had a chance to say anything more, a tiny owl flew in through the open window and landed on Harry's shoulder. “Hi Pig.”

Harry took the package from Pig, kissed the little fluffball, and then shooed him over to Ron, who promptly gave him a treat and sent him off to his cage.

Harry read the letter first, and then rolled his eyes. “Chocolate from George, he writes that they're not laced with a love potion or anything, and that should prove that he can be trusted to marry. 'Mione, will you test the chocolates to make sure they're  _really_ free from tampering?”

She caught the package he tossed her and grabbed her wand to scan it.

Ron shook his head. “How many times must you tell a bloke no before he stops asking? If you want, I'll work on a prank apple that'll kill him for a good minute or two. You can force feed it to him every time he asks you to marry him and watch him die.”

“The chocolates are clean and ooo... They're your favorite,” Hermione announced with a grin. She cast a smirk at Ron. “Remind me again why _I_ don't marry him.”

“Because he's not your type,” Ron stated with a light glare. Then he rolled his eyes. “And Bill's already married.”

“Ah _Bill_...” Hermione and Harry purred on cue, and then snickered at the murderous expression on Ron's face. Hermione squeezed her boyfriend's hand as Harry stuffed a delicious square of dark chocolate with caramel, pecans, and sea salt into his mouth. 

Feeling much better than he had, Harry managed to smile weakly at Draco. “Right, so, as I said, I lied to you. I wasn't lying specifically to  _you,_ just lying in general. Then I got drunk, then we went back to your place, and I've felt like a right bastard ever since.”

“We've established that you were lying. Would you care to explain what about? Tell the truth perhaps,” Draco drawled with a tone of definite challenge. He narrowed his eyes as he looked over to Ron and Hermione – who were holding hands and trying wordless communicate their love to each other with their eyes. Something else occurred to him. “And seriously, where's Potter? I expected him to threaten me to behave while in his house on penalty of painful hexes.”

Harry looked away from Draco in an attempt to hide a guilty expression. He scratched the back of his head, his delicate fingers getting tangled in his copious and wildly curly black hair. “Er... Are you certain that you don't want to eat first? I made Lasagna...”

Draco was frankly impressed. “You made this divine smell?”

Harry blushed lightly, pleased by the off hand compliment. “Yeah.”

Draco thought it over for a moment, but then shook his head. “No. Truth first.”

Harry sighed and looked to his hands where he was fiddling with another square of chocolate. “So, er... Have you ever heard of the Damsel Curse?”

“Can't say that I have, but just from the name alone, I can guess that it's designed to make someone weak and helpless. Please tell me there's not a dragon involved,” Draco said, attempting to lighten the mood just a little.

Harry chuckled. “No. It's, well... It's a curse...”

“And?” Draco prompted impatiently.

“And, well, er, it, er,” Harry stumbled, looked away evasively, and then blurted out his confession. “It'sacursetoturnablokeintoadamsel.”

“Sorry?” Draco replied in confusion.

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to say it slowly. “It's a curse to turn a bloke into a damsel.” He then nervously twirled a finger in the hair that covered the place where his scar normally was.

Draco tilted his head in the same way a dog does when trying to hear something that no one else can. “Sorry. What?” He watched that delicate finger twirling around in that lovely hair, which revealed a very faint white line – one so faint that Draco wasn't sure he actually saw anything.

Harry gave him a look as if asking:  _can you really be this dense_ ? Before rolling his eyes and starting over, speaking really slowly and enunciating each word clearly. “It's. A curse. That. Turns. –” 

“Oh for Merlin's sake!” Hermione burst out. She picked up her wand and pointed it at Harry. Harry winced but nodded in acceptance, so she cast the counter curse.

Harry groaned and placed a hand over his stomach as his reversion to normal triggered a bout of queasiness. Thankfully, it subsided rather quickly. With a soft sigh of relief, Harry looked at Draco.

Draco was gaping at Harry in astonishment. His mouth literally hung open and a soft droning sound escaped him. Harry chuckled very softly because he had never seen Draco straight up gobsmacked before. 

Harry waved a hand in front of Draco's face a couple of times. “Alright there, Malfoy? Malfoy? Malfoy!”

Draco abruptly got to his feet – knocking his chair over with a thundering racket. “What sort of sick joke is this?!”

“No joke,” Harry replied, sounding weary. “I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have... Well, I shouldn't have had sex with you – at all – when you didn't know that it was me.”

Draco took a step back and pressed his fingers to his temples so that he could rub them. “Let me get this straight... This isn't a joke. You really turned into a woman and we really had sex.” He was tempted to pace but he didn't want to show the Golden Trio any  _more_ weakness than he already was.

“Exactly,” Harry confirmed, trying to sound sympathetic, but couldn't help adding: “Twice.”

Draco looked at Harry abruptly. “That first time – I can sort of understand that one. I knew you were tipsy and not thinking clearly, and I invited you back to my place anyway. That's half on me. But that second time, I just wanted to talk. I said that quite clearly and you weren't drunk but you didn't say anything.  _In fact,_ rather than talk, you took the first opportunity to distract me.”

“What, did you...?” Hermione whispered the question behind her hand in Harry's direction, and then made a gesture as if putting something into her mouth to suck on.

“Hermione!” Ron spluttered in shock, his face turning bright red.

“What?” Hermione asked in mild exasperation.

Harry chuckled softly and shook his head. “Actually, all I did was kiss him. He took that as an invitation to shove me up against a wall and –” 

“Er alright, they get the picture!” Draco hastily interrupted him. “No need to be crude.”

“Agreed!” Ron stated, looking rather nauseous that he was agreeing with Draco on anything.

Hermione cupped a hand along the side of her mouth and silently moved her lips so that only Harry could see what she was saying.  _Tell me the rest later._

Harry nodded and handed Hermione one of the squares of chocolate that he hadn't eaten yet. She popped it into her mouth with obvious relish. Then Harry turned back to Draco.

“You're right. I can't explain it. I've been beating myself up for it ever since,” Harry explained with a heavy sigh. “Why do you think I ran away? It felt a bit like I woke up from the best orgasm of my life and realized that I was the lowest of the low.”

Draco took a moment to pick up the chair and sit back down so that he could attempt to sort through his thoughts. “So, when I asked what I ever did to you, you were mentally reading through a list of basically every time we've ever been in the same room together. No wonder you said that the problem was  _me_ ...”

“No!” Harry cried out, waving his hands in front of him. “Nonononono! The problem is _me_! I was the one who knew who I was and that you didn't know. I should have... Well, I probably should have had this conversation _before_ we shagged the second time.”

Ron gave Harry a strange look. “That makes it sound like you assume there would have been a second time had you had this conversation first.”

Harry blushed and fiddled with his hair again. “Er...”

“Ah,” Ron murmured in understanding. The little more than two months that Harry had been cursing himself into a woman, Ron had come to accept a few things that made him uncomfortable at first – such as Harry _preferring_ to be a woman, even when home. Having that base of knowledge to draw from, it really didn't take much at all for Ron to grasp the fact that Harry _liked_ Draco. Probably a lot more than he was willing to admit, even to himself. “Can we eat already?”

Draco sighed as he silently decided that he didn't want to leave quite yet. He wanted to think things through and form questions – such as how did Harry get cursed in the first place? But he needed a moment to wrap his head around everything so far.

“I need to visit the loo first,” Draco stated.

Harry smiled and nodded. “That'll give me time to change into something more comfortable. 'Mione?”

Hermione lifted her wand and cursed Harry once more. He unconsciously let out a happy little sigh. “Thanks love!” Harry exclaimed just before he kissed Hermione on the cheek. “Back in a mo! Come on, the loo's this way.”

Draco followed Harry curiously, taking note of everything from the decorations on the walls along the stairs to the way Harry seemed lighter in spirit than he had even just two minutes ago. They arrived in front of a door that was painted to resemble a sunny beach.

“Here's the loo. Just go back downstairs when you're done,” Harry stated. Then he started walking away, only to turn around and walk backwards so that he could see Draco. “I hope you're hungry. I made enough lasagna to feed half the Weasley family.”

“Ugh,” Draco groaned. “Don't mention them if you want me to retain my appetite!”

Harry chuckled, nearly tripped over the stairs since he wasn't watching where he was going, and then turned around to run up the stairs. Draco laughed softly before entering the loo.

“He's like a little kid,” Draco muttered to himself. He did his business and then sat staring at himself in the mirror for nearly five minutes. His thoughts kept circling round and round until he wanted to Obliviate himself just to be rid of them.

“Harry!” Ron roared up the stairs. “Stop trying to decide between the green and the blue and just throw something on! I'm bloody _starving_ down here!”

“I decided on green at least two minutes ago,” Harry shouted back. “It's my bloody hair that refuses to cooperate! Hermione, how do you get yours – er wait.”

“Harry, did you just ask me about taming my hair?” Hermione called up the stairs, clearly laughing. “Try brushing it and then leaving it alone!”

“I tried that and it puffed up like a blowfish!” Harry protested.

“Just shave it all off for all I care,” Ron shouted.

Harry gathered all his hair up and tied it back the best he could with a pretty gold ribbon at the nape of his neck. He ran back down the stairs, calling out as he went. “Wouldn't matter if I did, my hair always grows back – you know that.”

“Even as a girl?” Ron asked.

“Yep!” Harry confirmed.

Draco emerged from the loo as he heard Harry approach. “Everyone's hair grows back when it's cut.”

“Yeah, but mine grows back overnight,” Harry informed him. “I tried to cut this to shoulder length one night and it was back down to my arse the next morning.”

As Harry talked, they descended the stairs to the kitchen.

“That could be part of the curse,” Hermione suggested with a finger tapping her lower lip. “The archetypal damsel had long hair, and besides, the more the victim was distracted by his hair, the better, I'm sure.”

Harry shrugged. “Or it could just be my hair. The only cut my hair obeys is the one that makes me look scruffy.” He dropped the conversation so that he could pull the pan of lasagna out of the oven. It had been kept the perfect temperature with a stasis spell, which meant that it wasn't too hot for Harry to hold with his bare hands. He held it up and smelled it for a moment, then smiled rather proudly.

“Stop hoarding it and bring it here!” Ron insisted. “If I have to wait any longer, I'm going to die of starvation.”

Harry smirked at Ron as he carried the lasagna over and set it on the table. He cut a few rows, and then cut them into pieces. After that, he dished them all up.

Ron scoffed. “You call that a piece? Are you trying to starve me?”

Harry patted Ron's slightly thick waist and gave him a sickly sweet smile. “I'm just trying to save your poor clothes from the agony of straining against you.”

Ron harrumphed and purposely took a second piece. Harry laughed and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before sitting down to eat his own meal.

Hermione moaned so blissfully that it bordered on obscene. “God Harry! This is so good! I was skeptical when you insisted on making the sausage yourself, but you can really taste the difference.”

“Yeah mate,” Ron agreed with a grin. “How much of that sausage did you say was left?”

“Enough for breakfast tomorrow,” Harry replied after taking a sip of water to clear out his mouth. “Two breakfasts if I make it into a quiche. What do you think? Sausage and onion quiche. With mushrooms. And bacon. Served with hashbrowns, mmm, that sounds good...”

“Oh sure, that sounds good now, just wait until morning!” Hermione joked.

Harry felt his stomach churn. “Ugh! Don't remind me!”

Hermione realized that they had nearly given away Harry's other secret and quickly changed the subject. “So, Malfoy, you said a couple of times that you just wanted to talk. What did you want to talk about?”

Draco had been enjoying the lasagna – after subtly reclaiming his wand and casting a spell to make sure that it wasn't somehow poisoned so that only he would be affected. He carefully finished chewing his bite and took a sip of water –  _don't they have a decent bottle of wine? –_ to clear out his throat. Then he forced himself to look at Hermione and  _not_ blush.

“Er, well the first time I asked to talk to, erm, _Ari_ , I just wanted to confirm that she – he – _she_ had cast the proper spell after...” He gestured in a way that meant: _you know_. “Since I was too distracted to cast the appropriate spells befo – why are you all doing that?”

Hermione blushed and forced herself to look him in the eye. “Doing what?”

“Looking anywhere but at me,” Draco clarified with a suspicious squint to his eye.

“Well can you blame me?” Ron asked, scoffing. “It's not my idea of a good time to look at you while I'm eating. Likely to put me off my feed.”

“The feeling's mutual, Weasley,” Draco sneered, but then scrutinized the way that Harry was now looking at his hands in his lap rather than eating this excellent meal. “And why do you look so guilty?”

“Er... wine?” Harry offered with an overly cheerful smile.

Draco narrowed his eyes until he was practically glaring at Harry. “ _Potter_ ...”

Harry sighed and looked away. “I mean it, we have excellent wine in the cellar. I could have Kreacher fetch us a bottle.”

“ _ **Potter**_...” Draco snarled.

“Alright fine!” Harry cried out. “So I didn't know there were such spells!”

Draco stared at Harry in confusion for a long moment. Slowly, it sank in and he sat back in shock. “What?” Draco just couldn't believe that he hadn't jumped to the entirely wrong conclusion. He noticed the way that Harry was squeezing Hermione's hand in his – so hard that their hands were both white.

“I didn't know that there were spells to use after the fact,” Harry said. “It never even occurred to me to think about anything like that.”

Draco held up his hands in a gesture asking them to wait for a moment. He closed his eyes and tried his best to process this information. He and Harry had had sex → Harry had no idea that there were spells to use after the fact → Harry had gone to the Apothecary to get potions to settle his stomach and relieve headaches → Hermione had just made a reference to loss of appetite in the morning → Harry was actually scared and used the hand that wasn't clutching Hermione's to cover his abdomen...

“Oh God!” Draco blurted out, feeling a bit nauseous himself now. “I... I need time to think about this!” He announced as he got to his feet. He nearly tripped over the chair as he backed toward the fireplace. “I'll owl you. When I've... finished thinking.”

Before Harry could protest, Draco grabbed some Floo powder from a bowl on the mantle and tossed it into the the fireplace, calling out: “Malfoy Manor, Heir's wing.”

There was silence for a long moment before Harry chuckled ruefully. “I think he actually took that better than I did.”

Ron and Hermione didn't say anything, simply tilting their heads to the side and nodding in agreement.

 

***

 

_Potter,_

_I would like to talk. Meet me at the Regal Dragon at half seven._

_Draco Malfoy_

 

***

 

Harry looked at his reflection in the mirror and sighed. The downside of seeing a beautiful woman every time he looked at his reflection was that he had become accustomed to it. Now it took a fair amount of scrutiny for him to decide if he looked his best or not.

Ron snorted from where he stood in the doorway. “It's _Malfoy_. Just let your hair do whatever it wants.”

“But I don't want to screw this up,” Harry protested.

“Mate, if he's going to reject you because your hair isn't perfect, then you really don't need him anyway,” Ron reasoned, and it was logical enough that Harry couldn't argue with it.

He tried anyway. “But _I_ won't feel confident if I don't look my very best.”

Ron sighed as if thinking that Harry was being silly. He walked over and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. “Listen, Harry. You shouldn't rely on how you look to give you confidence. You sacrificed your life to save us all, and that in and of itself should forever remind you how noble and heroic you are. If Malfoy has a problem with you, that's _his_ problem, not yours. Don't go into this meeting thinking that you need to impress him; go into it knowing that _he_ needs to impress _you_.”

Harry gave Ron a weak smile. “Well, I _did_ save his life. That should count for something, right?”

“Exactly!” Ron stated, relieved that Harry seemed to be more confident now. “Just... when exactly did your feelings for him go from hate to... not hate?”

Harry shrugged. “I think it was when we were captured and brought to Malfoy Manor and I realized that he was just as scared as I was. But I still can't explain why I think about shagging him just about every time I close my eyes.”

“I didn't need to know that,” Ron said as he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Harry simply smirked, and then used his magic to swirl his hair up into a french twist, but since he had more hair than could fit, long strands of curls dangled from the bottom of it. A few other strands framed his face and trailed down to his cleavage. Since it would grow back by morning anyway, Harry had no qualms about trimming various other strands to decorate his face and neck artfully.

When he stood – ready at last – he examined his reflection one last time. His dress was a dark shimmering pink that covered him modestly from his neck down to his mid thighs. The sleeves were elbow length, and the whole thing clung to him like a jealous lover. The thing that set his dress apart from any other was that it had flirty lace-up detailing along his arms and right down the middle; beginning just under his collarbones, following his cleavage, and trailing off to the left almost until it reached his hip. The detail exposed the skin underneath, proving that Harry wasn't wearing a bra, but thankfully, his breasts were perky enough that he could get away with it.

Ron shook his head. “It's still disturbing to see you wear things like that. I'm not sure if I should look at those laces things – and thus inadvertently stare at your breasts – or if I should just not look in your direction at all.”

“I look disturbing?” Harry asked in mild alarm, wondering if he needed to change and if he had that kind of time left.

Ron snorted in amusement. “Yes! It's disturbing to think you look hot!”

Harry smirked impishly. “Well, in that case, I think I've accomplished my mission. I'll just be off now,” he said as he gave Ron a peck on the cheek.

“Have fun,” Ron wished him wryly.

Harry Apparated to the Regal Dragon, and then loitered in the entryway, nervously twirling a strand of hair dangling behind his right ear around his finger. His other hand unconsciously drifted down to rest on his stomach. _What if he has decided that he doesn't want anything do do with me or this baby?_

“Is something wrong?” Draco asked, startling Harry out of his thoughts.

“Ah,” Harry squeaked. “Er, no... just... thinking.”

Draco took a good look at Harry's appearance, and then smiled softly. “I wasn't expecting you to show up as Ari, and I _really_ wasn't expecting you to look so edible.”

Harry noticed that Draco looked rather handsome in a set of well-tailored, dark blue robes with silver accents. Thoughts of the glorious body that lay beneath those robes made Harry's eyes go unfocused. He had to swallow a couple of times to wet his suddenly dry throat.

Draco tilted his head and raised a brow curiously. He decided not to say anything that might make Harry feel embarrassed. “I asked to meet here so that we can't just shove one another against a wall. Perhaps – if neither of us runs away this time – we might actually get through an entire conversation.”

“Right,” Harry stated in agreement.

Draco swept his arm to indicate the hostess waiting in front of a little podium. When they approached her, she smiled at them. “Mr. Malfoy, right this way.”

Harry looked around the high class restaurant as they followed the hostess. He had never been here before but had to admit that the décor was tasteful. They were seated at a spacious but still cozy table for two and Draco promptly ordered an expensive bottle of wine.

“What are you in the mood for?” Draco asked after the hostess left. “The lobster is divine.”

Harry put a finger to his lower lip as he thought. “Hmm... Cherry cheesecake and crème brûlée with a side of chocolate covered pecans.”

Draco stared at Harry in silence for a long moment. “Is that all?” In his opinion, a pregnant, er, _woman_ should eat some actual food with all of that dessert.

Harry shrugged. “Well, and tea, I suppose. With a side of milk.” He thought about how he tended to feel just dreadful for the first half of the day, and then ravenous with random bouts of nausea. The milk usually helped to settle his stomach.

“Alright,” Draco murmured with a tone like he was biting his tongue to stop from saying anything to upset Harry.

Thankfully, the waiter arrived before the awkward silence could make them feel _too_ uncomfortable. Harry ordered exactly what he said he was going to, and then Draco ordered Lobster Medallions served on a bed of fresh, steamed veggies smothered in a creamy sauce.

“So...” Harry began, once again unconsciously twirling a strand of hair around his finger.

“Why a woman?” Draco blurted out curiously. “Why not just wear a disguise?”

Harry sighed, and then shrugged. “I'm not sure. As I told Ron, I would have been interested in the curse if it had been to turn me into dwarf or something, so long as I wouldn't be recognizable as Harry Potter. I also didn't want to use Polyjuice – which would require a supply of whomever I wanted to turn into and could wear off at the worst possible moment if I forgot to drink another sip in time. Plus, it tastes horrible!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised that you know what Polyjuice tastes like?”

Harry snickered and then gave Draco such an overly innocent grin that it was obviously fake.

Draco felt a shiver of apprehension run up his spine. “What?”

Harry did his best to sound like Draco at his snottiest. “A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevy in. Click, click. Potter, can I have your picture? Potter, can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes please, Potter?”

Draco felt his mouth hang open but couldn't quite remember to close it. “I _knew_ there was something off about them!” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “But when they came back to the common room much later on, all they could remember was eating something, passing out, and being locked in a room for hours. I just thought that it was part of that stomachache they talked about.”

Then the important part occurred to him. “Wait, _why_ were you Polyjuiced as Crabbe and Goyle?”

Harry blushed lightly and looked away. “I thought you were the Heir of Slytherin and I wanted to hear you confess.”

Draco snorted, rather amused considering what Harry was implying. “Except I wasn't.”

Harry nodded, feeling a bit repentant. “Yeah, I admit it, you weren't such an evil bloke, just a right prat.”

Draco sighed and gave a tiny nod. “Yeah, I can be. I hope you realize how much it pains me to admit that, but I'm tr... I'm _trying_ to make an effort here.”

Harry tilted his head to the side and regarded Draco as if he were a fascinating new species. “And why exactly are you making an effort?”

Draco seized the opportunity given by the waiter returning with their food to think his answer over carefully. The moment they were alone again, he took a deep breath. He fiddled with his wine glass but didn't drink from it.

“Well, I suppose that I want to be part of the baby's life. Knowing what I know now, I can't promise to get along with you, but I at least want to try,” Draco explained.

“What if there wasn't a baby? What if I hadn't found this curse? Would you still want to try getting along with just Harry Potter?”

Draco shifted uncomfortably and looked away. “Yeah. Months ago, I wanted to get to a point where we could talk long enough that I could thank you for saving my life without feeling like an idiot, but I didn't think you'd give me the time of day, so I never tried.”

Harry nodded slowly as he thought this over, and then he decided to just go for it. “Alright, the thing is, I've decided that I really like this curse. It lets me be free in a way I didn't know was possible. I plan to stay a woman for the most part during the pregnancy because – well – because it just feels more comfortable. When I change back, my body protests, probably because men aren't supposed to be pregnant. Thus, most of the time we decide to spend together will be like this.” He gestured to indicate the fact that he was a woman. Then he moaned softly as he ate a bite of his cheesecake.

“I have to admit, that's weird,” Draco murmured before taking a sip of his wine. “I would have never thought that _you'd_ prefer to be a woman.”

“Don't get me wrong, it's not forever,” Harry stated seriously. “I have plans that include one day falling in love and getting married. I refuse to be with anyone who doesn't accept all of me, so when I do get married, it will be as Harry.”

Draco swallowed a bit nervously. “Are you saying that you _hope_ something grows between us that turns into a relationship that leads to marriage?”

Harry thought this over carefully before replying. “I suppose that what I am saying is... I will share this baby with you as much as you want, but I don't expect anything else from you. I'm also saying that I _do_ eventually want a relationship with someone that leads to marriage. So, if you don't think that you can realistically be part of my life and this baby's and whomever I choose, then you should tell me that now.”

It was Draco's turn again to think things over carefully before replying. “What if... What if I decide that being married to the mother of my child before the baby is born is extremely important to me?”

Harry felt like his heart stopped completely for a moment. “Er... Is it?”

Draco flung his hands into the air and sighed. “I can't help it, it's the way I was raised! If my parents knew that I was careless enough to get someone pregnant before marriage, they might just disown me.”

“That's not exactly an incentive for me...” Harry murmured with a frown.

“I know,” Draco admitted with a heavy sigh.

Harry shook his head. “Besides, I meant it when I said that when I do decide to get married, it will be as Harry. Can you just imagine... I mean think about that! Harry Potter marrying Draco Malfoy? What would everyone in the world say? And you... You can't possibly be interested in that!”

“Why not?” Draco wondered with a curious frown.

“Two men getting married. Those two men being us – lifelong rivals who hated each other for many years. And well, Ron said that getting married just because I'm having a baby is a bad idea. Those relationships usually don't work out,” Harry explained.

Draco reached across the table and took Harry's hand. “Just set the whole issue of the baby aside for one moment. I may not have _seriously_ entertained thoughts of marrying Harry Potter before, but now that I am, I actually think we'd make a good couple. For exactly the reasons you think we wouldn't. I'm not in awe of your fame. I don't think I should fawn all over you just because you defeated the Dark Lord. I am attracted to the man, just as I am attracted to the woman. We seem to have a lot of passion between us, and if you think about it, that's been true for years – maybe since the beginning. Why else would we get on each other's nerves so easily?”

“Wait,” Harry blurted out in shock. “Are you seriously asking me to marry you?!” Because until this moment, Harry had thought they were talking in general possibilities.

“I wasn't... but yes,” Draco confirmed with a tiny smile. “I invited you here tonight simply so that we could talk about how this would work – the two of us raising a baby together. It wasn't until you mentioned it that I realized that it's one of those unshakable beliefs that I just can't ignore. I need to be married to the mother – father? Merlin, that's confusing! _Parent_ of my child and... And I _want_ to be married... I'll do whatever it takes to convince you that this is the right thing to do.”

As they had talked, they had also lightly eaten their food. Even so, there was quite a bit left. In frustration and feeling a sudden need to run away again, Harry signaled for the waiter to pack up his leftovers.

“I need to think about this,” Harry stated firmly, pulling his hand free from Draco's.

Draco sighed in disappointment. “I understand. Please come to the Manor tomorrow as Harry and let me know what you decide.”

“I will,” Harry promised just before he took his boxed leftovers and rushed to the Apparation point.

 

***

 

“We need ice cream to go with this,” Hermione stated as she dished Harry's leftovers onto three plates. Meanwhile, Ron was regarding Harry as if afraid that Harry might burst into tears and sob all over him again. To be fair, Harry _was_ looking rather teary eyed.

When Hermione was done adding ice cream to their plates, she carried them to the family room and insisted that Harry sit in the middle of the couch. After that, she and Ron sat down on either side of him. Harry accepted his plate and shifted a couple of times to get comfortable.

“So... how did it go?” Ron asked tentatively.

“Scary,” Harry admitted, then shoved enough ice cream in his mouth that he couldn't talk for almost half a minute.

“Scary how?” Hermione asked in concern.

When his mouth was clear enough, Harry attempted to answer. “Well... We didn't fight – or anything like that. We were actually having a decent conversation. I heckled him about that time we Polyjuiced into Crabbe and Goyle in Second Year.”

“That had to be fun,” Ron said with a grin.

“Yeah, a bit,” Harry murmured with a fond smile. “But then, well, I was trying to tell him that I'd be willing to share the baby, but that I would also eventually find someone to be in a relationship with and get married to, and that he'd have to just deal with it, and...”

For absolutely _no_ reason that Harry could figure out, his eyes abruptly filled with stinging tears and he buried his face in Ron's chest to cry. Hermione wisely took his plate from him and set it aside – along with hers – so that she could rub his back. Ron was able to set his own plate aside before it slipped from his grasp.

“What happened? Did he threaten to take the baby away?” Ron asked, once more feeling awkward. He was not very good at the comforting thing. Even so, he felt inexplicably smug that Harry kept crying on him rather than Hermione.

“No! Heaskedmetomarryhimanditmademewanttosayyestandjumpinhisarms!” Harry took a breath and added: “And that scared me!”

Ron looked to Hermione with a baffled expression because he couldn't decipher Harry's blubbering. Hermione looked stunned.

“ _Harry..._ Did you just say that he asked you to marry him and you wanted to say yes?” She asked for clarification.

Harry nodded and clutched Ron just a bit tighter as his crying got a bit harder, which embarrassed him because he honestly didn't think there was a good enough reason to be crying. He might be a little scared, sure, but not upset.

Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Mate, _everyone_ asks you to marry them. It's a bit strange that Malfoy hadn't yet, but that's all this is. He doesn't mean it any more than the rest of them do.”

This strangely made Harry feel about 80 percent better. He stopped crying and sniffed to clear his nose. Though he kept his head against Ron's chest because the sound of Ron's heart beating was rather soothing.

“That's true. Probably,” Harry admitted as he wiped his nose with a hand. “So it should be easy enough to convince him that it's a bad idea.”

“A terrible idea!” Ron added with a smirk. “You and ferret face?”

Harry chuckled very softly, relaxing as Hermione continued to rub his back and stroke his hair. “That's sort of what I said. But he said... he said that it was important to him to be married to the mother of his child, that it was how he was raised, and that he thinks we'd actually be good together.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a bug-eyed look over his head. That sounded a _lot_ more reasonable than all the other proposals that Harry had gotten. It was then that Ron had a sinking feeling that Harry might actually agree to marry Draco sodding Malfoy.

“But I just have to remind him that we don't get along,” Harry continued, unaware that his two best friends were sharing a moment of profound clarity.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed vaguely. “You do that.”

“Just remember that we'll be here for you no matter what happens,” Hermione reminded him, kissing his cheek.

Harry gave her a watery smile. “Thanks.”

 

***

 

“Potter,” Draco greeted cautiously when Harry stumbled out of the Floo.

“Malfoy,” Harry returned the greeting with an intensity in his eyes that made Draco shiver with apprehension. “There's a flaw in your logic. We're _not_ good together and I can prove it.”

Draco raised a curious brow. He was tempted to take a step back and grab his wand to defend himself with. “You can?”

Without another word, Harry nodded in confirmation and marched forward until they were toe to toe – their height nearly equal when Harry was a man. Then he narrowed his eyes and made certain that Draco could see that he was serious. “You think we will be good together because I'm softer and less argumentative as Ari, but I already said that you'd be marrying _Harry_. I honestly don't think we could stand each other. For example,” Harry illustrated his point by seizing Draco and kissing him rather possessively.

Harry thought that Draco would be repulsed by the kiss. He figured that the two of them couldn't actually stand each other, and that Draco would push him away. Instead, Draco held Harry tight and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.

Very quickly, Harry forgot the point he was trying to prove. Instead, he felt an urge to press their bodies together as much as possible. His hands rapidly located Draco's cushy arse, which felt even better than it looked. Harry moaned as a powerful rush of desire blasted him.

Draco quickly lost all patience and used his wand to wordlessly banish all their clothes to the floor. Then he tossed his wand aside and practically flung Harry onto the bed. Harry's true body was covered in scars that made Draco curious. He wanted to know everything about them, but decided that it was best to ask some other time. Instead, he kissed the circular burn-like scar on Harry's chest, and then sucked on Harry's neck for a moment before kissing Harry again.

Harry tangled his fingers in Draco's hair and returned the kiss with an astonishing amount of passion. Their bodies pressed together from chest to groin, which made Harry groan in longing and wiggle his hips just a little in an invitation to hurry up. Draco responded by breaking off their kiss and licking a path down Harry's chest and stomach.

Harry inhaled a soft gasp as he realized that Draco was going to give him a blowjob. That was a rather rare experience for Harry that he couldn't believe the somewhat selfish Slytherin would do. But Draco proved him wrong. Not only did he give Harry a short but mind-boggling blowjob, but he then used one hand to wank Harry as he moved his mouth to a place even more intimate.

Harry nearly choked on his gasp this time. He'd never had anyone rim him before, and if anyone had asked him, he would have said that he thought the experience would be too awkward and embarrassing to be enjoyable. To his surprise, he was most definitely wrong!

“Oh God!” Harry cried out, clutching Draco's hair in his hands. He wasn't sure if he wanted to pull Draco away or push him in closer. All he knew was that his brain felt like it was melting and pouring out his ears. Between Draco's hand on his shaft, fingers in his arse, and tongue wiggling around wherever it liked, Harry was quite ready to explode and die in a blaze of glorious fire.

He arched his back and pushed against the headboard as something that sounded suspiciously like a squeal came from his mouth. He pumped thick white stripes all over the place, feeling like he was a hose attached to a fire hydrant. The rush literally made his whole body quake and – for just one moment – Harry felt like he was drowning. When his orgasm finally came to an end, Harry nearly passed out, forming what felt like a boneless blob of pudding on the bed.

Draco chuckled as he shifted positions. “That sounded practically life changing.”

“Mmm...” Harry responded because it was the only thing he could gather up the energy to say at the moment.

Draco grabbed a bottle of oil from the bedside table so that he could lubricate both Harry's stretched hole and his own shaft. When ready, he kissed Harry as he guided himself into the tight hole that had obviously not been used in quite some time – if ever. Harry tensed slightly and shifted every time Draco pushed forward, making him stop and wait patiently.

Less than a minute later, he was buried deep and it felt so good that he was now the one moaning in pleasure. “Oh God, Harry! You feel so good!”

Harry smiled, happy to hear that despite feeling a powerful lethargy from his intense orgasm. To Draco's shame, he was far too turned on to last more than two minutes. As he pumped Harry full, he mentally vowed to talk Harry back into his bed as soon as possible so that he could do better.

Draco collapsed on top of Harry, who was happy to hold him tight for a few moments, and then he squirmed uncomfortably until Draco shifted off of him. With a sigh of relief, Harry snuggled into him. Draco was still panting a bit heavily and was surprised to find himself drawing circles on Harry's shoulder, which was a gesture almost more intimate than the sex had been.

“So, er... how exactly was that supposed to prove that we're not good together?” Draco wondered.

“That backfired,” Harry admitted with a soft chuckle. “I was so sure that _me_ kissing you would repulse you that you'd have to admit that being married to me would be a bad idea.”

“So you're saying no?” Draco stated more than asked, trying hard not to sound disappointed.

Harry let out a long-suffering sigh. “We don't know anything about each other except that you're an insufferable prick and I'm a reckless bastard. How could we possibly make a marriage work?”

Draco shifted so that he could look Harry in the eye. “If we _don't_ get married, our child will grow up in a split family, raised to believe that his or her parents are enemies who can't make an effort to get along. I'll have that arranged marriage that my parents want, and you'll...” He shrugged. “Probably marry a Weasley because you can't bring yourself to trust anyone else.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I was thinking that maybe I should take George up on his offer, since being a single parent is supposed to be incredibly hard and I know that the two of us get along really well.”

Draco nodded slowly as he thought this over. “So, you don't actually mind getting married for the sake of the child. You just believe that we won't work out, so you won't even try. That sounds so unlike a Gryffindor that I'd think you were scared if I didn't know better.” Then his mind caught up with him and he gasped. “You _are_ scared! You're afraid that this thing between us will be so passionate that it'll burn out like a firework and leave you broken!”

Harry glared at him, pushing him away slightly. “No! I'm afraid that we'll do nothing but argue and the baby will grow up thinking that we don't love it because we can't get along with each other!” He wasn't quite willing to admit – even to himself – that Draco might be right too.

Draco bit his tongue and counted to ten to prevent himself from blurting out hurtful nonsense like he had a habit of doing around Harry. When he felt calmer, he forced a tiny smile.

“In an arranged marriage, both partners go into it knowing exactly what is expected of them. They make a contract. A standard contract usually states things like they will put their marriage and the creation of Heirs first. There's also almost always a clause that if they can't get along, they'll have separate rooms and only come together at dinner time. Their goal is to be united in their efforts to raise their children well and maintain a solid partnership,” Draco explained.

Then he sighed. “It doesn't have to be a passionate love affair. If it is, it's a bonus. I truly believe that we have what it takes to set aside our differences and get along for this baby.” He caressed Harry's lower abdomen gently.

Harry shook his head and bit back a sigh of frustration. “You keep saying things like that! That you believe that marriage is nothing more than a-a-a a _partnership_ ; an agreement to make the kids believe that they're part of a family! But I already told you that I want to fall in love! I want a marriage based on love, respect, and mutual trust!”

Draco looked away. “And you think you could have that with George Weasley?”

“Well... mostly, yes,” Harry stated.

“But not with me?”

Harry hesitated for a moment. “I... I don't know.”

Draco looked at Harry again. “Listen, my point wasn't that I think we should suffer a miserable marriage for the sake of the baby. My point is that I was raised to have an arranged marriage for the sake of having a family. I can promise to make every effort to get along with you until – and this is my hope... Well, until we do fall in love. I think we could love each other, and even if we don't, if our marriage is this passionate, it'll still be worth every moment. We'd have a lot more than most people.”

Harry couldn't help the smile that broke across his face. “You think we could love each other?”

Draco suddenly felt far too vulnerable and exposed – like someone had pulled off all of his skin to reveal his soul. He abruptly turned to face away from Harry because he couldn't stand to look at him at the moment. He took a shaky breath.

“I think that there was a moment in our Fourth Year in which I watched you go up against a dragon and emerge victorious. A moment in which my heart stopped and I didn't know if I was worried about you or impressed by your flying skills. I think that there was a moment in our Fifth Year in which you were suffering torture at the hands of Umbridge but you kept on rebelling anyway. You didn't lay down and shut up like they wanted you to. You did what you thought was right.”

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “And then there was a moment in our Sixth Year in which you clearly showed concern for me but I was too stubborn to accept it. I threw hexes at you, provoking you into almost killing me. I remember how you looked. I know that the last thing you wanted was to kill anyone, not even me.

“And then... There was a moment in Seventh Year in which I was about to die and you saved me. I knew then that we were tied together by fate itself. For better or for worse. I held onto you as tightly as I could, not just because I was afraid of dying in that fire, but because I didn't want to let you go. I was filled with an insane hope that you'd actually be able to save us all, and I wanted... Merlin help me, I _wanted_ you to do it. I might even have helped if you'd asked me to!”

Harry gathered up the strength to get on his hands and knees and crawl onto Draco so that the trembling man had no choice but to look at him. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying that... That _yes_ , I think we could eventually love each other,” Draco admitted, still trying his best to look anywhere but at Harry.

“ _Draco_...” Harry exhaled in awe, realizing that Draco was being so evasive because he was afraid to confess the real truth. The same truth that Harry suspected was the reason he was so scared of the prospect of marrying the prickly bastard.

The use of his name caught Draco's attention, prompting him to finally look Harry in the eyes.

Harry took a deep breath, sent up a prayer to Godric Gryffindor, and then kissed Draco. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Draco asked in confusion.

“Yes,” Harry repeated with a soft smile. “I'll marry you. But there's a problem.”

Draco smiled briefly when he realized that Harry was accepting his proposal, but then frowned with a feeling like everything was about to come crashing down around him after all. “Problem?”

Harry rested his head on Draco's chest so that he didn't have to look at him. “You said that it was important to you that we get married _before_ the baby is born. Well, it's important to me that I _not_ look like I have a beer belly on my wedding day. It's vain and stupid, I know, but I don't want to be a man with a big ol' pregnant belly as I walk down the aisle in front of everyone on the planet because Harry Potter getting married is sure to draw a crowd. So that means that you'll have to wait until after the baby is born and I look normal again because I have this alarming habit of crying at the moment and I don't want to be a blubbering idiot on my wedding day!”

Draco snorted in amusement and pulled Harry into his arms. “You're not showing yet...”

“So? By the time we can plan out a wedding, I very much will be!” Harry protested.

“Unless we do it now – say this weekend,” Draco suggested.

Harry gaped in speechless shock for a long moment. “Are you _serious_?!”

Draco nodded. “I'll have the house elves decorate the ballroom and garden and cook up a feast. I'll tell them that I'm planning a surprise for my parents so that they don't alert them to this event before it's too late to stop it. Then I can also invite a few select members of the press, but this way, there's no time for the news to leak out and we'll only have guests that we invite. I suspect that the majority of them will be... _Weasleys_...” Draco ended with a heavy sigh.

“Why are you keeping it a secret from your parents? And do I have to keep it a secret from –”

“No,” Draco assured him with a kiss. “You can tell whomever you like. I just want to avoid telling my parents because I think my father will try something to stop us. I plan to cast a spell preventing him from saying anything once the ceremony starts – you know, such as when it's asked if anyone can think of a reason why we shouldn't be married.”

Harry chuckled. “Perhaps we should specify that _that_ question should be avoided.”

Draco laughed. “Yeah, we probably should.” Then he frowned. “I'm just not sure if I can obtain a license _and_ a person willing to perform the ceremony by this weekend.”

Harry grinned. “Just leave that part to me!”

Draco nodded, ruffling Harry's hair out of his face. Without a reason that made sense to him, he kissed the lightning bolt scar on Harry's head. Harry reacted by shivering uncontrollably and moaning softly.

“I prefer Harry to Ari,” Draco whispered so softly that Harry wasn't quite sure anything was said after all. He shivered again and buried his face in Draco's chest.

 

***

 

“Are you _sure_ you want to do this?!” Ron asked, sounding a bit panicked as he paced the massive and richly decorated room that Harry had been given to get ready in.

“I'm sure,” Harry confirmed with an impish smirk.

“Because there's still time to change you mind,” Ron pointed out, his hands pulling on his hair.

“He's right,” Hermione stated supportively, but then marched over to Ron and shook him lightly. “But I suggest that you pull yourself together. Your best friend is about to get married and _you're_ a nervous wreck!”

Ron whinged a bit as he looked to the ceiling. “He's about to get married to _Malfoy_!”

Hermione giggled softly. “I have a strong feeling that this was always going to happen, no matter that it looked a lot like hate for so many years.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Ron admitted with a sigh. “Harry was seriously _obsessed_ with Malfoy our entire Sixth Year. And – come to think of it – _most_ of our time at Hogwarts.”

Hermione rewarded his acceptance with a rather heated kiss. She was wearing a shiny blue satin gown trimmed in green that made her look sleek and sexy even as it was modest in the front. It revealed her back since Harry thought that her back was worth revealing, and Ron couldn't argue since it was true. Her hair was done up elegantly – having been styled by professionals that morning as she and Pansy had gotten together to get ready. Pansy wore a dress that matched Hermione's, except that it was green satin trimmed in blue.

Ron was wearing stylish dress robes in shades of blue and green – which was the color scheme Draco had picked for their wedding. Harry was wearing hands down the finest set of dress robes he'd ever put on. They were a sort of creamy silk accented with both green and blue. The robes made him look more handsome than he thought possible.

He had spent the whole morning being fussed over by a tailor and a flamboyantly gay makeup artist who specialized in making men look their best without looking like they were wearing makeup. It was one of those things that Draco had insisted on because he wanted their wedding pictures to be perfect, and Harry had no particular objections.

Now that they were all ready to go, Harry was starting to feel a bit anxious. Not nervous, but excited. He was fidgeting because he wanted to go get married already, but he had to wait.

Draco had done an excellent job of misleading his parents without actually lying. Thus, they were currently not at home. Draco had given them an elegant Champagne Brunch and a mini spa day. Once Lucius and Narcissa had interrogated the house elves and learned that Draco was planning a big surprise for them, they had stopped asking questions, assuming that Draco was arranging some sort of garden party for them.

Thus, when they returned home to find that the ballroom was prepared for a feast and dancing, they smiled... Until they went into their beautifully decorated garden and found... _Weasleys_...

They exchanged baffled glances.

A house elf appeared before them. “Master Draco asks the Master and Mistress to please sit.” The elf gestured to indicate seats at the front of several rows of Draco's Slytherin classmates and their parents – plus what looked to be a handful of reporters and other important people. Not willing to appear less than fully composed in public – especially when the other side of an aisle formed by chairs was populated by Weasleys, various Gryffindor Alumni and young people who had belonged to other houses – the haughty couple plastered on gracious smiles and took their suggested seats. Which was when they noticed that the Minister of Magic himself was standing on a dais as if preparing to give a speech.

Sure enough, the moment the Malfoys were seated and the crowd grew quiet, Kingsley Shacklebolt cleared his throat and looked out over the audience. He smiled at Arthur and Molly Weasley since he was good friends with them. Then he held up his hands.

“Friends – at least I hope that all of us gathered here can make an effort to be friends for today. I'm sure that most of you came because you were sure the invitation had to be some sort of joke. I alone, perhaps, know the entire story; the invitations you all received only gave you half the story – depending on which side you supported during the war. So I fully expect all of you to be quite shocked in a moment...” Which wasn't entirely true since the Weasleys had all been told the truth, making both George and Charlie a bit teary eyed.

Kingsley gestured for a group of musicians to begin playing a soft melody. “My dear friends, we are gathered here today for a momentous wedding. A wedding that will unite two unlikely people and quite possibly heal our entire community. A wedding that will promote peace and tolerance for everyone – regardless of which side of the war they fought on.”

At this point, he gestured to call attention to the fact that Pansy and Hermione were approaching him from either side of the dais. They both carried a bouquet of various blue flowers and vibrant green leaves. Following them were Ron and Blaise, who also carried bouquets simply because Draco thought it would be amusing to see them do so. Also, for the same reason that the girls matched and contrasted, so did Blaise and Ron.

The four of them came to a stop on either side of Kingsley – Ron and Hermione on the left, standing in front of the Gryffindors; Blaise and Pansy on the right, in front of the Malfoys and Slytherins. Draco and Harry were already approaching the dais, giving Pansy the briefest of moments to notice and snicker at the gobsmacked expressions on Lucius and Narcissa's faces. In fact, most of the audience was exchanging incredulous looks – as if they were expecting someone to shout: “Just joking!” At any moment. It was true that each invitation had only mention one of the two people getting married, and also specifically stated that it wasn't a joke, but here in the moment, it was hard to believe.

Then Harry and Draco arrived in front of Kingsley and took hold of each other's hands. The press went wild, snapping pictures and trying to demand answers, but a smug smirk from Draco let them know that he had cast a spell to prevent anyone from saying anything during the ceremony. Well, anyone other than the two of them and Kingsley.

Harry took a good look at Draco's well-tailored black silk dress robes accented in blue and green. A soft smile twisted his lips, letting Draco know that he liked what he saw. The two of them looked good together, and after a moment of silent mutual appreciation, they looked to the Minister of Magic.

Kingsley was tempted to chuckle and shake his head. It was obvious by the looks in their eyes that this was more than just a simple whim – as they had tried to make him believe. More than just trying to be decent parents to the child they had accidentally created. This was the beginning of true love. As promised, he kept the ceremony short and to the point.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, do you take Harry James Potter as your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and honor him above all others for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Draco stated without any hesitation. This frankly surprised his parents, who had expected – in the one moment they managed to wrap their heads around this earth shattering shock – that this would be a more traditional pureblood marriage in which the vows were more like a contract of mutual partnership.

“And do you, Harry James Potter, take Draco Lucius Malfoy as your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and honor him above all others as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Harry stated, feeling a sense of hope fill him for the future.

“Then – by the power invested in me as the Minister of Magic – I pronounce you husband and husband. You may seal your vows with a kiss,” Kingsley informed them, wondering for one brief moment if they would actually do it.

His unspoken question was answered when they both – still holding hands – leaned forward and gave each other a relatively chaste series of kisses that lasted for a few seconds. The press went wild again, taking as many pictures of the moment as they could. Molly Weasley broke the magically enforced silence by sobbing from happiness.

Kingsley held his hands up over his head. “May I present to you all for the very first time as a married couple, Mr. Draco Potter-Malfoy and Mr. Harry Malfoy-Potter.”

Before anyone could say anything – now that they could talk – Molly and Arthur started clapping. Ron and Hermione were a half second behind them, and Pansy and Blaise barely a second behind them. The rest of the audience only hesitated for a heartbeat more before joining in on the applause – aside from Draco's parents, who were still trying to process this rather sudden event.

When Harry and Draco broke apart to turn and face their audience, Draco's first glance was toward his parents. The clearly anxious look on his face told them all they needed to know. That he wanted this but was afraid of their reaction. So... They clapped, giving him tiny but genuine smiles of acceptance. They hadn't quite reached approval yet, but they could accept that he was following his heart, and they _did_ want him to be happy.

Seeing their tiny smiles felt like someone threw a bucket of cold water over him, he was that relieved. Squeezing Harry's hand, he returned their smile with a brilliant one of his own. No matter what else happened, at least their marriage was starting off on an auspicious note. As a Slytherin, he could work with less if he had to.

Draco leaned over and stole another kiss from Harry. “My parents don't seem upset, as I expected them to be. Even so, we should probably wait until tomorrow to tell them the rest.”

Harry laughed and nodded. “You're probably right.” He returned Draco's kiss and then, hand in hand, they took their first steps together toward the rest of their life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure why I wanted to write a story in which Harry decides to be a woman, but once it hit me, I just couldn't *not* write it. I think that in the end, Harry wants to be *both* genders equally, it was just very important for him to be able to get married as his true self. After the wedding night, he changes back into Ari for the majority of the pregnancy and most of the year that he breastfeeds. Then he changes back and forth between Harry and Ari as the mood strikes. Meanwhile, Draco loves and supports him through it all :-)


End file.
